


Daisy

by DeadlyGlacier



Category: Let's Play (Webcomic)
Genre: Cute, F/M, Just a lil something, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:09:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26035438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeadlyGlacier/pseuds/DeadlyGlacier
Summary: DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU ARE COMPLETELY CAUGHT UP IN THE COMIC!EVENTS IN THIS STORY TAKE PLACE AFTER THE S2 FINALE!Sam wakes up somewhere unfamiliar with a splitting headache with no memory of the night before.
Relationships: Charles Jones/Sam Young (Let's Play)
Comments: 38
Kudos: 149





	1. Part I

_So now that Let’s Play just went on break before Season 3, I couldn’t help but think of what could happen where we were left off. I’m so excited for the new season, but I do hope Mongie takes all the time she needs for a break and gets to binge-watch all the Netflix she wants. (May I suggest… Peaky Blinders?)_

_Anyway, like let’s get on with it!_

**SC SC SC SC SC SC SC**

Sam woke with a start, groaning as a throbbing pain came roaring to life in her head. It was so sharp and heavy it actually made her feel congested, and she sniffed feebly as she struggled to sit up. _What on Earth?_ she thought to herself, trying to get her bearings. _Why am I in so much pain?_ Looking around her, she quickly realized she wasn’t in her apartment and a panic set in. Throwing the sheets off her (they were a far better quality than her own, she couldn’t help but notice), Sam went to a large, nearby window to try and see if she recognized where she was--but to no avail. She was high above a busy city street, and nowhere near a street sign.

The room she was in was rather plain, with a kind of minimal, modern design. Black, grey, and white. There was no television, but the room did have a chest of drawers and a nightstand next to the double bed she’d been sleeping in… a nightstand with her glasses and cellphone. On the floor next to them were her shoes and skirt. Her face reddening, she looked down at herself and realized she was only in her panties, tshirt, and the shirt Charles had lent to her--though now it had all kinds of wrinkles in it.

Charles…

_Charles!_

Yesterday came rushing back to her all at once (from what she could remember, anyway). They had kissed! Her face flushed whenever she replayed that moment in her head and she felt honest-to-god butterflies in her belly. Sighing, she tried thinking about what had happened after. Charles drove her to a restaurant, they ate, and then Charles _started_ to explain what kind of relationship they could have, but things became fuzzy after that…

“I think I ordered a coffee,” Sam muttered to herself, unsure. She bit at her thumbnail, tenting her brows.

Her phone chimed, startling her out of her train of thought. She sat back on the bed and picked up her phone, reading the text she’d just gotten. It was from Vikki:

_Sam, at least read these texts we’ve all been sending so that we know you’re okay. We just want to know you’re alright. You never miss raids._

“No!” Sam cried loudly, frantically scrolling through her guild’s group chat. Worried texts from Angela, Abe, Vikki, Olivia, and even Edgar flooded the last twelve hours of the chat. She almost replied immediately, but then she realized she still didn’t know where she was and that would likely be the first question they had. She needed more answers about what had happened last night before she talked to anyone. She’d read the texts from everyone, so hopefully that would keep her friends’ worries at bay for the time being.

Not only had they texted, but they’d also called multiple times and left about a dozen messages. Angela was the most ardent worrier, it seemed. Link even called her a few times.

A timid knock came to the door, startling her again.

“Samara?” a familiar, silky Welsh voice called from behind the door. “Are you alright? I heard a shout.”

A sigh of relief escaped her and she answered quickly, “I’m fine, Charles. J-Just… trying to figure some things out here.” _This is Charles’ apartment,_ she told herself, comforted. _You’re with Charles._

She heard him chuckle, “Yes, I imagine you are. Come on out when you’re ready, bunty. I’m cooking breakfast, if you’re hungry.”

The thought of food both sent a wave of hunger and nausea through her, “I-I think I could eat.” Her head throbbed with pain again and she cleared her throat, “You wouldn’t by chance have any ibuprofen, would you?”

“I do,” Charles confirmed cheerfully. “I believe I put two pills and a glass of water on the nightstand next to your phone before I put you to bed. Do you see them?”

Sam looked, and she suddenly noticed the glass and medicine, “O-Oh, yes I see now. S-Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. I have to check on the stove, Samara, but you take all the time you need before you join me downstairs, alright?”

“Okay,” she replied quickly, nodding (even though he couldn’t see it).

Once she heard him step away from the door and descend a nearby staircase, Sam quickly went back to her phone and typed out a fast message in the group chat:

_Hey, guys! I am so, so sorry about last night! I’ll explain later, but I just want you all to know I’m fine. Angela, Vikki--I will call you guys in about an hour or so, okay? I have to call my landlady and make sure she looks in on Bowser. He’s probably fine, but I just want to make sure. Once again, guys, I am incredibly sorry. I know Friday nights are the one night a week we can do raids together as a group and I messed that up. I won’t happen again, and I’m sorry for worrying you all. -- Sam_

After that, Sam did as she said she would do in her text and called her landlady. She explained as casually and as vaguely as she could that she hadn’t been home last night and needed someone to look in on Bowser. Hopefully she’d been convincing enough--it didn’t seem like she’d raised any suspicions or concerns from Ms. Whipple, to her relief. She loved Bowser, so Sam knew she’d look in on him in any case.

With all that dealt with, Sam finally got dressed. She pulled on her skirt and removed Charles’ shirt somewhat reluctantly (it was so warm!), and then slid into her flats before grabbing her phone. She took the ibuprofen and brought the glass with the remaining water with her to the door, as well as Charles’ shirt. When she stepped out of the room she was struck by the fact that not only was there a downstairs below her, but there was even another floor above the one she was currently on! _Wow, big place…_ She started towards the downward staircase, but caught herself in a hallway mirror and hurriedly tried to fix the tangles in her hair and rub the tiredness out of her eyes. Sighing at what little she was able to do for her appearance, Sam resigned and began down the stairs.

The smell from the kitchen made her stomach gurgle, and it seemed hunger had won the battle between it and nausea. Sam rounded the corner and saw Charles at work on the stove, his back to her. Something that sounded like bacon was frying in the pan before him, and she sighed pleasantly at the smell. There was a pitcher of fresh-squeezed orange juice on the counter, as well as a plate of hot pancakes with a bottle of syrup. A French press had a steaming batch of coffee inside it. Sam’s mouth watered.

Charles didn’t appear to notice her yet, and she took the chance to look around. The downstairs was large and spacious with the same kind of sleek, modern decor as the guest room. A wide section of floor-to-ceiling windows lined the wall next to the living area, giving a beautiful view of the busy day below.

Sam walked over towards the island where Charles had been preparing the food, and she took a seat on one of the simple, square-shaped stools. She placed his shirt on the stool next to her, and waited patiently for Charles to finish his task.

She noticed he was dressed casually in a black long-sleeved shirt and gray sweatpants. His icy blonde hair wasn’t fixed in place like it usually was at work, and she could see the frames of his glasses around his ears as he cooked.

Suddenly, he turned off the stove and turned, startling when he saw her. He’d gasped some kind of Welsh phrase she didn’t understand, but she didn’t care because Sam found his surprise so adorable she actually giggled.

“You’re a quiet one, Samara,” he said, brushing the bacon onto an empty plate. “I nearly dropped the skillet.”

Sam was still laughing slightly, “To be fair, you were frying bacon. Kind of hard to hear over that. Besides, a lot of people at work think you’re the one that needs to wear a bell around the office.”

“Is that so?” he said with a little grin, peering over his glasses with his electric blue eyes. Sam just nodded. Charles shrugged, “I suppose I’ve heard Umed say that on occasion.” He gestured to the feast he’d prepared for them, “So, Samara, do you feel like eating? If you do, it would be good to have protein. Otherwise, I made coffee and orange juice.”

Sam looked at the beautiful meal he’d just made, “Y-You really didn’t have to go to so much trouble, Charles.” Her face reddened a little.

Charles just made a dismissive gesture with his hand, “Nonsense. You are my guest, I’m obligated. Besides, I had the perfect excuse to try and made Jordan Bamsay’s famous scrambled eggs. I think I did alright. You’ll have to tell me if you’re up for it.” He turned and retrieved another pot off the stove, pouring the creamiest, fluffiest-looking scrambled eggs she’d ever seen onto another plate.

“Oh wow, I’ve always wanted to try those,” Sam said, impressed. She looked at him, “You’re quite the cook, Charles.”

“Thank you, Samara,” he said appreciatively. “But you should taste something before you pass any real judgement on my cooking.”

Sam blushed, “Oh, w-well I’m sure it’s all wonderful.” She cleared her throat and looked up at him, “Charles, h-how did I end up at your place? What happened?”

Charles nodded, “Well, some of that is lost on me as well, concerning what happened. I went to answer a phone call when we finished dinner, and when I came back I found you finishing an Irish coffee… and thoroughly inebriated.”

“You mean I was drunk?!” Sam exclaimed incredulously. “How can that be? All I did was order a coffee!”

Some kind of realization must have hit Charles then, and he shook his head, sighing another mysterious Welsh phrase under his breath. “I will be having a word with the manager of that establishment…” He sighed again, looking back at Sam, “I’m so sorry, Samara. There must have been a miscommunication with the waitress. A simple cup of coffee and an Irish coffee are _not_ the same thing.”

Sam frowned, “They’re not?”

He shook his head, “No. An Irish coffee has Irish _whiskey_ in it--a fair amount of it, if the state you were in last night was any indication.”

Sam’s face reddened to a deep crimson, “Oh, _God…”_ She buried her face in her hands. “I feel so _stupid!”_

“Don’t, bunty,” Charles insisted gently. “If anyone should feel stupid it’s the waitress for thinking someone ordering a coffee meant they wanted a cocktail--reguardless if the restaurant had a bar or not.”

Sam was rubbing circles at her temples, her eyes closed. She sighed, “I was just trying to save some time before I went home. I didn’t have time to grab a coffee from somewhere else before the raid.”

“Raid?” Charles asked, confused.

Sam froze, her eyes popping open, “Um, yeah…” Her face reddened, and she shyly confessed, “Like, l-like in um, World of Warquest? M-My friends and I are in a guild that does raids together on Friday nights and it’s the only night we’re all able to be online at the same time. I never miss it.”

“Ah, I see what you meant by ‘party’ now,” Charles said. He chuckled.

She sheepishly scratched at one of her arms, “Y-Yeah. Sorry I fibbed a little. I was trying to hide my geeky side.”

“You don’t need to do that, Samara,” he told her earnestly. “We already work at a software company. The lot of us are going to have some kind of ‘geeky side,’ as you say.”

Sam nodded gratefully, “Well alright then.” She thought for a second, “But wait--you still haven’t explained why I wound up at your place? Why didn’t you take me back to my apartment?”

Charles closed his eyes and sighed, folding his arms, “I had hoped to spare you… some of the details of last night, but it seems you are a rather… hyperactive drunk, Samara.”

“Oh, no,” she groaned, sinking into the stool. “What did I do? Please tell me, Charles.”

“You’re certain?”

Sam nodded, regretfully but resolute.

He sighed again, “Well, at first, I _did_ plan on taking you back to your apartment, but as I was leading you out of the restaurant, your brother and his girlfriend showed up.”

Dread filled her gut like cement and she gulped.

“You had become inebriated so _rapidly…_ I’ve never seen anything like it. But when I saw your brother, I knew he would not accept any explanation from me whatsoever about your condition, so I had to act fast and take us out the back before he saw us,” Charles explained. He picked up a plate and began serving portions of the meal he’d prepared, making sure to give her a large amount of the scrambled eggs, Sam noticed.

She sighed, “Well, I’m glad you got us out of there before he could see me. He might have called my dad if he saw.”

Charles froze, “Oh dear… I hadn’t considered that.” He looked at her seriously, paused mid-serving of bacon, “Your friends, they didn’t get worried about your absence and call your father, did they?”

Sam laughed softly, waving a hand, “Oh no, they know how crazy my father gets about my safety and health--and they know I like to maintain my independence from him however much I can, so most they know any concerns they have for me are best shared amongst themselves and not with him. The only reason they would is if I was headed to the hospital for an emergency.”

That seemed to visibly relax Charles, and he went back to his task, letting out a breath, “What a relief. The man would have my head if anything were to happen to you in my care, especially now that he’s on vacation.”

“Vacation?” Sam repeated with an incredulous laugh. _“My_ father?”

Charles nodded, “Yes, I’d be happy to tell you about that too--but I thought you wanted to hear the story of last night?”

She quickly nodded obediently, “Yes, please. Sorry for interrupting.”

He made another dismissive gesture with his hand and placed a heavy plate of food before her, “Here you are, Samara. I hope it’s to your liking. I assume you will want coffee?” His hand hovered by the French press, waiting for her reply.

Sam eagerly clapped her hands together, “Oh yes, it smells wonderful.”

Charles retrieved a mug and dutifully poured her a cup, “Will you take cream, sugar, both?”

“Cream,” she answered, and then chewed her lip. “Do you have any cinnamon?”

He raised his eyebrows and nodded, “I do.” He got the spice and the small container of creamer for her, and then Sam fixed her coffee how she made it at work. While she didn’t have the fancy caramel syrups that the coffee shop had, she could still fix a cup of coffee worthy of her palette. Charles watched her curiously, and then smiled gently when she sighed pleasantly at the taste of the fresh brew. “Hmm, I believe I shall try it that way as well. I’ve never put cinnamon in my coffee before,” he told her. He continued his story as he began to do the same with the mug he conjured, pouring in the coffee and other ingredients, “As I was saying, I had to get you out of there fast, and it was _still_ my intention to take you to your apartment. What I was not anticipating, however, was you still being so hyperactive in the car--so much so that it was too dangerous for me to drive all the way to your place. I had to bring you here because it was so much closer and I was far less likely to crash my car.”

“Oh, my God!” Sam exclaimed. “I’m… Charles, I’m so sorry I was such a nuisance.”

Charles shook his head, stirring his coffee before taking a sip, “You’re no nuisance, Samara.”

“Still,” she said, sighing heavily. She looked at him and leaned her head against one of her hands, “Thank you for getting me somewhere safe.”

“Anytime, Samara,” he said with a little wink, taking another sip of his coffee. “Although, hopefully that exact situation won’t happen again. I really am going to have to have a word with the manager of that restaurant. That was unacceptable.”

Sam waved her hands, “Please don’t! I--”

“Samara, the negligence of that restaurant could have gotten us both severely injured or even killed. They are supposed to ask for an ID when someone orders alcohol, regardless of how age-appropriate a person may look, and if they had done so you would not have wound up drinking an entire draft of Irish coffee in less than three minutes. I believe it’s imperative that I inform them of what they’ve done and hopefully encourage them to be more diligent with their policies in the future.” Charles finished with a casual shrug, taking another long sip of his coffee. “This is really delicious--cinnamon is a revelation.”

Sam smiled and shook her head at him, “Something tells me you wouldn’t phrase it exactly like that.” He only smiled into his cup, looking over at her. Another thought came creeping into her mind, bothering her, “Charles… something still doesn’t quite add up about last night.”

Immediately, he became concerned, “Please, whatever I can do to ease your mind, Samara.”

She began to chew on her thumb, “Well… this morning--and keep in mind, I am in _no way_ accusing you of anything. I mean, given the way you describe I was acting last night, it would be easy to guess why it happened but…”

Charles’ eyes were wider than she’d ever seen, sheer panic in them, “Samara, please, what is it?”

She took a breath, firmly putting both hands in her lap, “When I woke up this morning… I-I wasn’t wearing my skirt. I just… I just wondered if you knew why that was…”

When she looked back up at him, his face was even redder than hers. He ran his fingers through his hair, “I-I assure you, Samara, _nothing_ happened. When we arrived here last night, you were already so sleepy and I carried you up to the spare room to put you to bed. You were wearing your skirt then--all I did was help you under the covers. I then got you some headache medicine and water to drink if you woke up in the night, and then I got ready for bed myself.” He met her eyes and Sam nodded for him to continue. He did, “I had just gotten into bed when I heard you coming up the stairs… I thought you needed something else, but…”

Sam listened intently, “But…?”

Charles sighed, “Not only are you a hyperactive drunk, Samara, but also an aggressively amourous one.” Sam gasped and put her head in her hands again. “You had taken off your skirt, and tried to get in bed with me. You were… astoundingly assertive and insistent, but before I could even get the chance to lead you back to your bed…”

She peeked through her fingers at him, “Oh, God--what? What did I do?”

“You… vomited. Copiously. Not in my face, exactly, moreso on my feet and pajama bottoms. Then you promptly passed out,” Charles said, his eyes sad at the sight of her distress over that news.

Sam crossed her arms on the table and let her forehead fall onto them. _“Noooooooo,”_ she groaned, beyond embarrassed.

“Don’t worry, Samara--I cleaned it up just fine and you slept the rest of the night. I’ve… I’ve had my fair share of those moments in my life and this wasn’t your fault,” he told her earnestly, reaching for her hand. “Please, don’t be embarrassed, bunty. I had hoped to spare you that, but you were right to inquire about your concerns.” He squeezed her palm, urging her to look up at him, “Come now, let’s eat breakfast before it gets too cold, okay? We’ll put that silly night behind us.”

Sam took a cleansing breath and raised her head, nodding sheepishly, “O-Okay.” She looked up at him, “But thank you, seriously. For everything you did last night.” She squeezed his hand back and smiled softly at him.

Charles’ cheeks remained a light shade of pink and he matched her expression, “You’re welcome, Samara.”

With that, Charles fixed his own plate of breakfast and sat next to her on the island. They shared some small talk about work as they ate, and Sam had never had a more delicious breakfast in her life. The eggs were as amazing as she thought they’d be, the bacon was crispy just as she liked it, and she even had some of the pancakes--which were perfectly fluffy and topped with butter and syrup. She hummed agreeably when she finished, sitting back in her chair and closing her eyes.

“Feeling better?” Charles asked, amusedly taking a sip of orange juice.

Sam nodded, sighing pleasantly, “So much. You’re a wonderful cook, Charles. Everything tasted great.”

“Well, thank you for saying so,” he said appreciatively. “It’s not often I get to cook.”

“So,” Sam began after a beat, “what did you mean before about my dad going on vacation?”

Charles nodded and set down his glass of juice, “The other day, when your father was distressed about your mother going to Hawaii, I went into his office so that he and I could have a real talk. I figured there had to be a reason why he reacts so strongly about any news about your mother--or you, even. I wanted to really listen, and understand.” He looked at Sam seriously, “And I did. Not only did I understand, but I empathized with him about everything that he told me.” He sighed sadly, shaking his head at himself, “Looking back on the way I just dismissed as--what I perceived to be--overdramatic reactions, I now realize that they were deeply rooted in traumatic memories for him, and I feel guilty for not thinking of him sooner. Your father and I are… we’re a lot more alike than I thought.”

“Wow,” Sam said, blinking. “That must have been some talk you guys had.”

He nodded again, “It was. It wasn’t a boss-to-protegee talk, or even a man-to-man talk, but more as a person-to-person talk. And, really, I just listened to him--and by the end of it, I made a bit of an executive decision on his behalf. Immediately following mine and your father’s discussion, I had Lucy call your mother’s agency and ask if your father could join her in Hawaii for a week or two. I had her arrange his calendar to suit that schedule… and I had your mother flown here so that they could fly to Hawaii together, because I knew he--”

Sam threw her arms around him mid-sentence, sending the island stools a bit wobbly from the action. She squeezed him tight, her eyes stinging, “Charles, that might be the nicest thing anyone has ever done for my dad. Thank you. I can’t believe Jay and I never thought of it before.” She let go slightly so she could meet his face. For the first time since she’d known Charles, he looked sheepish. “You’re wonderful,” Sam told him earnestly, brushing a bit of his bangs out of his face. “I don’t know if you believe that about yourself or not, Charles, but I want you to know _I_ believe that. You’re wonderful.”

Charles ran the back of his hand down the side of her face, lightly brushing his thumb against the apple of her cheek, “That means… so much, especially coming from you, Samara.”

Sam smiled warmly at him, and there was a long pause where they just looked at each other, glad for the company. “Charles, do you have a spare toothbrush?” she blurted after a moment.

Taken aback and somewhat confused by the question, he said, “I--er, somewhere, probably. Why do you ask?”

Sam’s face flushed, “Well, we just had breakfast and you said I was sick last night--but I r-really want to kiss you right now.”

Charles grinned and laughed softly, “I don’t care.”

His mouth caught hers off-guard, but Sam quickly responded with her own, sighing against him. She embraced his neck again, and Charles slid his arms around her waist, gently tilting her head back as he deepened the kiss. Sam trembled, and Charles held her tighter. She could feel how warm and strong he was. His mouth left her lips to kiss at her jaw and then at her neck. A soft gasp escaped her, and she let her fingers run through his hair at his nape, her nails gently scraping his skin. He shivered.

When Charles came up from her neck, the look in his eyes was so hazy and hungry. Sam spoke, “I meant what I said last night.”

Charles blinked, his eyes getting wide, “I… what--what do you mean?”

“When I said I wanted you, and that you were special to me,” she told him.

He cleared his throat, nodding, “Ah, that--yes, well--”

“I know I’m inexperienced, Charles, and I know you’re not looking for anything serious--I want you to know I understand that, and why you’re hesitant to… be with me.” Sam’s face was flushed, but she spoke clearly and honestly with him. “But I think this vacation you’ve sent my dad on is a great opportunity for us to figure out how this could work, if this is what we want--don’t you agree?”

He pressed his forehead to hers, “It does seem like perfect timing…”

“Then here’s what I propose,” Sam offered. “We take this week or two to ourselves and see if letting things ‘develop organically’ is possible for us. I know with my lack of experience, there might have to be some adjustments to what you’re used to as far as the arrangement you laid out last night, but I’m not expecting a bouquet of roses or anything like that, so… what about one little daisy?”

Charles smiled to himself and then looked at her, “You know… a daisy might be just perfect.” He brought her hand to his mouth and he kissed her fingers, “But I want _you_ to know: a woman like you deserves roses, Samara.”

Sam shrugged, brushing his bangs back with her free hand, “Roses have thorns. Daisies are cute.”

“That they are,” Charles agreed.

“Just think it over,” she told him. “We’ve got some time.”

Charles nodded, “I will.”

**_Later that evening…_ **

Sam stretched and yawned at her desk, finally logging off of World of Warquest. She looked down at Bowser, happily playing with his little princess toy. Ms. Whipple had said he was just fine when she checked on him, and had even taken him out for a little walk. Sam had also made sure to call Vikki and Angela as soon as she got home, and then messaged Abe to apologize for being absent at the raid. Even Dallas had sent her a worried IM about last night, (“u ok?”). _Maybe Link urged him to do that,_ she thought to herself.

She was dressed in her comfy pajamas and fuzzy slippers, freshly showered and smelling like soap. It felt good to wash that crazy night off her, but she still couldn’t stop replaying her first kiss with Charles in her head, as well as the one they shared in his kitchen. Despite the embarrassment of what happened the night before, she didn’t want to forget either of those moments, ever. They brought a smile to her face whenever she thought about them now.

A knock on her door startled her, and Bowser began yapping excitedly. “It’s alright, buddy,” Sam said to him as she walked to answer it.

When she opened the door, she grinned.

Standing there was Charles: messy-haired, casually-dressed, bespectacled… and offering her a single, perfect daisy.

 **SC SC SC SC SC SC SC**

_Hope y’all enjoyed this little one-shot! Let me know what you think if you have the time!_

_Stay safe and healthy y’all,_

_Glacier_


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Sam have a more in-depth conversation about their relationship.

_Whoops. Couldn’t help myself, looks like there’s going to be more chapters._

_Here’s another part!_

**SC SC SC SC SC SC SC**

“Would you like something to drink?” Sam asked as she stepped aside to let Charles in. “I’m having tea. I could make you some if you like?”

Charles shook his head, “No, I’m fine, Samara.” He looked down at her pajamas and slippers, smiling. “You look cozy.”

Sam couldn’t help but blush a little bit, but she stood in mock defiance, her hands on her hips, “I am. This is what I normally wear on Friday nights for the raid.”

He chuckled warmly, “I see. Well, I think this ensemble is missing one little detail…” His voice trailed off, and he gently placed the daisy he’d been holding in her hair.

Sam grinned, her blush deepening, “How do I look?”

“Sublime,” Charles said simply. Bowser walked up to him curiously and then sat with a ceremonious _plop,_ staring up at him. Charles looked down, “Well, hello again, little chap. Good to see you keeping your mother safe at this late hour.”

Sam gestured to her couch, “Please, come sit.”

Charles nodded and they walked over and sat. He peered over his glasses at her, resting his elbow on the back of the couch, “It occurred to me after you left this morning that while you proposed the two-week timeline for our little trial period that you hadn’t laid out any guidelines for us. For instance, should this end up being a success, what our behavior should consist of within the office.”

“Ah,” Sam nodded, picking up her mug of tea from the coffee table. “You’re right.”

“Well,” Charles went on, “I was thinking that while the company doesn’t have any rules against… fraternization, there’s still a level of decorum I’d like to maintain around the office. No reason to flaunt anything in front of everyone--do you agree?”

“I do,” she said, nodding again.

He sighed, “So, as much as it might disappoint the two of us, I would suggest we keep our office doors open if we’re both in either of them. It would encourage… restraint.”

Sam smiled into her mug of hot tea, “Yes, it would cut down on the chances of--what did you call it? ‘Snogging at the workplace’?”

Charles chuckled, “Indeed. Also, it would prevent office rumors making it back to your father, should we continue after he’s returned from Hawaii. Which brings me to the question of what to do if he finds out, and are we actively keeping it from him?”

Sam pondered this a moment, “Hmm, I would say we don’t _actively_ tell him, or anything. But if he finds out, I’ll be straight with him and emphasize that this was a decision we _both_ made--especially if he gets… well, _you know_ how he gets with you around me.” Charles chuckled again and nodded at that. She smiled at him, “But if it comes down to it, I’ll stand between you and him if I have to.”

Charles smiled warmly back at her, “Well I appreciate that, and I hope it won’t be necessary.” He adjusted himself on the couch a bit, crossing one of his legs over the other, “Now that that’s out of the way, there are some other things I wanted to ask you before we do anything… intimate.”

A blush crept up Sam’s cheeks again, but she was still smiling at him and meeting his eyes with her own, “A-Alright.”

His hand came over to grasp her free one loosely, tracing the lines in her palm with his finger, “Samara… forgive me for the bluntness--I know that can embarrass you--but, do you ever… tend to your _own_ needs?” Charles’ face was a little pink asking the question.

At first, his meaning didn’t quite reach her, “Tend to my own--OH!” Her face reddened considerably, “W-Well, if I’m being honest, n-no. I have, erm… watched some things before, but that was for a different purpose.”

It was Charles’ turn to be confused, “What other purpose?” He peered at her curiously.

Sam sheepishly went into a brief explanation about her friends’ “exposure therapy” suggestion (but did not tell him about the crazy nosebleeds), and the afternoon she spent with her laptop.

He chuckled when she finished, “And did you learn anything?”

She shrugged, “I would say so. It helped me with my nerves a little bit, and I discovered… well, that I liked some of it.”

Charles grinned slyly, his electric blue eyes staring intensely into her own, “That’s good to know.” He continued his line drawings on her palm.

Sam’s cheeks pinkened and she took another sip of her tea, grinning into the brim of the mug. When she swallowed she looked at him, her own sly smile spreading across her face. “Do you think about that often, Charles?” she asked curiously.

He lifted an eyebrow, “Think about what?”

“Me tending to my own needs,” Sam stated matter-of-factly (albeit, accompanied by her ever-blushing face).

Charles made a startled noise, apparently completely caught off-guard by her question. His own face flushed red and he looked down, clearing his throat. “I-I…”

Sam giggled, setting her mug down, “Seems you’re not the only one who can tease.” She took her now free hand and moved to take Charles’ hand in both of her own.

He laughed softly, meeting her eyes again, “I’ve created a monster.”

Sam shrugged again, “You were bound to rub off on me eventually.”

“In more ways than one, apparently,” Charles said, grinning.

She laughed, rolling her eyes, “Oh, I walked right into that one.” Sam looked at him, “So why ask me that?”

He cleared his throat again, “Ah, yes--we got sidetracked… well, the reason I asked is because I’d been thinking if you _didn’t_ tend to your own needs that you might… _start--_ and that’s because I feel it might give you a sense of… familiarity when we’re together, some manner of knowing what to expect.” He looked at her hands holding his, “I’ve noticed when I’m close to you, or when we’ve kissed, that you tremble a great deal. I feel if you were more, erm-- _prepared,_ in a sense, I might not make you as uncomfortable.”

Sam squeezed his hand, “Charles, you don’t make me uncomfortable at all. I’m just nervous… and excited.” She smiled softly, feeling the largeness of his hand, “I trust you, Charles. I’m not, like, scared of _you.”_

He looked up and smiled, “I’m glad.” But then his expression changed to concern, “But you are scared in general? Of what?”

She sighed and shrugged, “That I’ll do or say something wrong. That I’ll mess up. That this is too good to be true. Any time I’ve tried to pursue something like this, it… it hasn’t gone well.”

Charles nodded, “Well, Samara, those men were fools.” He blinked, giving a soft smile, “May I confess something to you?”

Sam’s head tilted, curious, “Sure.”

Charles brought his other hand to join hers, and he looked at her earnestly, “Those things you’re scared of, those fears you have? I have them, too.”

“You do?”

He nodded and patted her hands, “I do. And that’s okay. As long as we’re honest with each other and communicate clearly about what we both want, we’ll stay afloat. We’re in this together, okay?”

Sam smiled, nodding, “Okay.” She felt relieved.

“There’s one last thing I wanted to discuss with you, if it’s alright,” Charles said gently.

“Of course,” she agreed.

“When the time comes for us to be intimate--the first time, your first time--I’m thinking we shouldn’t plan it out too much. One’s first time is… I feel there should be some semblance of spontaneity to that moment to keep it special,” he said thoughtfully. “So I think booking a hotel room is out of the question--as I said before, it’s important to me you’re comfortable with me, and that you feel safe, and I think a hotel room would be putting pressure on the moment, wouldn’t it not?” When he looked up at Sam, she was staring at him, her eyes warm. “What?”

She smiled, “I really appreciate how much thought you’re putting into this, Charles. You really do worry about me, don’t you?”

Charles seemed a bit sheepish, but he looked at her earnestly, “I’d be a fool not to, Samara. Not about the worrying,” he added hastily, “but putting real thought into your first time. You said I was special to you, and I want to make sure I do everything I can to make this memory worthy of that statement.”

Sam brought his large hands to her mouth and kissed his fingers gently, “You will, I know it. Besides, this is a two way street. It’s not just about me.” Her face heated up again, “I… I want to know it’ll be good for you, too. Don’t put so much pressure on yourself, Charles. Like you said, we’re in this together.”

“Right,” he said, smiling gratefully. He went on, “Anyway, with a hotel room out of the question--that just leaves my place and your place. Ideally, I think it should happen here. It’s your home, you have your inhaler and other medications here in case things are too taxing…”

Sam nodded, “That sounds good.”

“Now, another thing is protection,” he said seriously. “I will of course carry some on my person when we’re together, so you don’t have to worry about buying any--however, it may be more beneficial to take some kind of birth control as well, just to be safe. Though, I realize getting in touch with a doctor in a two week time frame might be difficult to achieve.”

Sam sighed thoughtfully. She hadn’t thought about birth control, but she was glad Charles had brought it up. “Hmm, I agree that I should take some extra precaution, too. It shouldn’t be _too_ difficult to get an appointment, not with my medical history--it’s just a matter of keeping Jay out of it,” she told him. An idea came to her then, “I might have a way to do that. I’ll let you know.”

“Good,” Charles said with a sigh of relief. He relaxed back into the couch, “If it’s not too much trouble, Samara, I believe I will have that tea now.”

Sam grinned, “No trouble at all, Charles. Coming right up.”

She went to the stove and eagerly began to boil some water in her kettle, excited for the coming week. The butterflies were back, and she welcomed them as she got the tea bags out of the cabinet, trying not to grin too obviously. Patiently, she waited for the water to boil, absently touching the daisy in her hair. When the kettle finally whistled, she poured the water into a mug with the tea bag and carefully brought it over to Charles, who was petting Bowser when she turned around.

“Here you go,” she said cheerfully. “Sorry if it’s not as good as what you’re used to. Us silly Americans and all that.”

He chuckled, “I’m sure it’ll be just fine, Samara. Thank you--but if you’d like me to show you how we make it back home, I’d be happy to.”

Sam sat back next to him, grabbing her mug again, “I’d like that.”

Charles smiled at her, “It’s a date, then.” He raised his mug, “To staying afloat.”

Sam grinned back at him, touching her mug to his, “To staying afloat.”

**SC SC SC SC SC SC SC**

_You guys see what I did there? Eh? Eh? “Afloat”? You get it?_

_Lol, hope you liked this one. Not really any goodies in this chapter but there will be in the future._

_Y’all be safe and healthy!_

_Glacier_


	3. Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has a transformation thanks to a little help from Angela, Vikki, and Monica.

_So this one’s a bit longer than the others--yay! Also upped the rating, just to be safe._

**SC SC SC SC SC SC SC**

Sam took a generous sip of her coffee, letting out a pleasant sigh as she sat outside The Daily Grind waiting for Angela and Vikki. It was Sunday morning, and she had Bowser with her. They were coming back from his morning walk when they ran into her friends on their way to meet with her, so they just decided to head to the coffee shop from there. Sam thought they looked a little concerned about her, and she had a feeling they knew something was up.

She hadn’t fully explained her absence from the raid on Friday to them, telling the truth but keeping it fairly vague. She told them that she’d done something stupid and simply wasn’t able to get to the raid in time. All it had done was pique their curiosity, but at least they weren’t fretting over her anymore. She’d also figured she’d have to tell them the whole story eventually, and today seemed like a perfect time to do it.

She smiled as she took another sip of her coffee, fondly recalling her goodbye to Charles the night before. They kissed so fiercely that by the time they parted, their lips were swollen and they were both out of breath. She remembered the feeling of Charles’ large hands wrapping around her waist, pulling her in a tight embrace when his lips hungrily went after her own. They’d fallen against her door, and he pressed her up against it, murmuring into her mouth. When she kissed him back, she felt bold and sucked his bottom lip (she’d read about that somewhere) and then gently scraped her teeth against it, just barely tickling the soft skin. He moaned, letting her do it again. But that was when he’d parted from her, his voice hoarse and chuckling, _“Easy, bunty.”_

Sam had smiled shyly up at him, almost a little smirk, _“Says the man pressing me up against my door.”_ Her cheeks flushed pink and she couldn’t stop the smile on her face as she stared out across the street.

“So,” Angela’s voice said behind her as she and Vikki came to join her at the table, “care to tell us why you haven’t been able to stop smiling since we ran into you?” They sat across from her, their backs to the street.

“We were watching you while Dee made our coffee,” Vikki said sweetly. “You’ve clearly got something on your mind.”

Sam cleared her throat, “Well, that kind of starts with Friday morning.”

Angela nodded seriously, “Yes, I think we’d both like to know what the hell happened on Friday.”

Sam began to explain the events of that day, starting with her decision to come to work early that morning and her blunder with Charles’ ring, and how silly she felt about what she’d done. She didn’t tell them the details of what caused his divorce, but she did tell them it didn’t end well. Then she told them about the kiss they’d shared, and the moments leading up to it.

Both Vikki and Angela gasped gleefully. “Sam!” Angela exclaimed, excited for her. “That sounds hot.”

Sam blushed, smiling to herself, “It was.”

“And he’s your boss?” Vikki asked, tilting her head.

She nodded, “Yeah.”

Angela appeared thoughtful, “I don’t think we’ve met him, have we?”

“I don’t think so,” Vikki agreed.

Angela waved a hand, turning back to Sam and looking eager to hear more, “So then what happened?”

Sam continued, telling them of the car ride and being at the restaurant--the conversation they’d had about “letting things develop organically.” She also explained to them Charles’ desire for things to be casual. She’d just gotten to the part where he’d gotten up to answer the phone when Angela interrupted her.

“That sounds… sketchy to me, Sam,” she said, her brows drawn in concern. “I think you need to be careful around this guy.”

Vikki touched Angela’s wrist, but kept her eyes (eye) on Sam’s face, “We don’t know him, Angela--not like Sam does. We can’t really pass judgement on him.” She nodded at her, “Please, continue.”

Sam smiled gratefully, “Thanks, Vikki.” She cleared her throat, “Anyway, here’s where I screwed up so bad that I had to miss the raid.”

She told them about the mix up with the waitress, and like Charles, Angela became annoyed with the waitress for not asking for ID. Vikki was a little more understanding, saying that it was an honest mistake on either side of the situation. Regardless, they both dropped their jaws when Sam told them about how she’d been such a rowdy drunk almost instantly, and how her brother showed up moments later, making Charles flee out the back of the restaurant with her in tow. They kind of giggled when she told them about how she wouldn’t (or couldn’t) stop messing with him in the car, so much that he just had to bring her back to his apartment just to keep them both safe.

“Then he carried me upstairs and put me to bed in his guest room,” Sam finished. “He took good care of me.”

“I’m glad,” Vikki said gently, her smile soft.

Angela still seemed a little unsure, but she nodded in agreement, “Yeah, I’m glad he took care of you. He really didn’t have a choice to do anything else in that situation, especially with your brother showing up. What would he have thought if he’d seen you two?”

Sam shuddered, shaking her head at the thought, “Ugh, it would have been bad. My dad and Jay already don’t like Charles much--I think it stems from some things he did when he first started working at the company. I don’t really know what happened, but either way, dad and Jay have pretty much decided to hate him regardless of how well he does his job.”

“Do you think you should listen to them?” Angela asked.

She shook her head, “No. They make snap judgements and stick to them. Charles has been nothing but kind and encouraging to me--I’ve learned a lot from him in the past few weeks. He’s helping me grow bit by bit. Not just in the work environment, but as a game developer. He played _Ruminate_ and gave me an in depth review on it. He’s been a huge help for me, and he’s always treated me with respect and like an adult. And I’ve needed that for a long time.”

At that, Angela and Vikki looked a bit guilty, but they said nothing. “Still,” Angela said after a long moment, “I don’t know if I like this thing you’ve got going on with him.”

Sam nodded, but then shrugged, “You don’t have to. I told him I’d never planned on dating or getting married in the future--it’s only recently I’ve begun to explore this… world. He and I have set some boundaries for whatever this is between us, and I’m excited to do this.”

Vikki nodded slowly, listening. “So, you’ve talked with him about this?”

“Yeah--he came over last night and we had a good, long talk about how we should go about this--before that, I’d told him we would use the time while my dad was out of town to see if it would work in the first place,” Sam explained. “So technically, we’re in kind of a ‘trial period.’”

“So, what if it doesn’t work out?” Angela asked bluntly.

Sam shrugged again, “Then we go back to how it was, or I return to my old job, depending on however it ends.”

“It sounds like you really got your bases covered,” Vikki said, impressed.

“Yeah, there’s still a couple of things I want to do before he and I do anything, though--and one of them I kind of _have_ to do,” she said.

“What’s that?” Angela asked curiously.

Sam blushed, giving a pat to Bowser’s head under the table, “Well… erm, birth control.” Bowser flopped over on his back, begging for belly scritches. She obliged.

“You haven’t already been on it?”

She shook her head, “No, I never had a reason to take it before.” She went thoughtful, “I’m thinking of calling my brother’s fiancée Ruth to see if she can refer me to anyone that has openings in the coming week. I really hope I can see someone as soon as possible, just so I don’t have to worry about it.”

“That’s a good idea,” Vikki told her. “What else did you want to do before you and Charles…?”

Sam smiled, looking at the two of them, “Well, that’s where I was hoping you two could help me. I wanted to… do some shopping.”

“Did someone say shopping?” a familiar voice said, coming up the sidewalk where their table sat.

Sam turned to see Monica coming towards them, her little dog Dinah in her black bag. Glamorous as ever, she was wearing a full face of makeup--bright, cheery pink lips, and sharp black eyeliner--and her long pink hair shined almost glittery in the morning sun. Today, she was wearing a black scoop-necked shirt tucked into a pair of stark white pants. The heels of her black suede boots clacked on the concrete as she got closer to them, stopping just beside Sam.

“I did!” Sam said brightly. “I’m wanting to go to the mall today and get some new clothes and maybe a little bit of makeup.”

Monica gasped excitedly, “You’re finally doing a makeover?! Girl, why didn’t you call me? I’d be happy to help you.”

“I was going to call you,” Sam said truthfully. “I wanted to see what you’d suggest for me--but I don’t think I can pull off a look as glamorous as yours.”

She scoffed, making a dismissive gesture with her hand, “Oh, honey, don’t you worry about that. I know you wouldn’t want this outrageous look--besides, it’s _my_ look.” She looked at Sam sweetly, “Makeup is really about enhancing the beauty that’s already there--and you’ve got plenty of it.”

“Sam,” Angela coughed subtly, wanting to be acknowledged.

“Oh goodness, sorry!” Sam said, realizing her blunder. “Monica, these are my best friends Angela and Vikki.” She gestured to them as she said their names, and then she turned to gesture to Monica, “Guys, this is Monica McKenzie aka GlitzKitten--she’s a ViewTuber like Marshall.”

At the mention of Marshall’s name, Monica’s genuine smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but she nodded at Sam’s friends, “Nice to meet you both. Love your hair, by the way.” She nodded at Angela who instinctively reached for it, twirling a lock of it around her finger.

“Oh, thank you,” she said appreciatively.

Monica’s attention turned back to Sam, “May I invite myself along to your shopping trip? I need a new project to work on.” She shifted her weight, and something in her eyes made Sam sad.

“Of course you can,” Sam told her. “I’d be delighted to have you with me.” She turned to her friends, “What do you say, guys? Want to make it a girls’ day?”

Vikki and Angela looked at each other and then looked back at Sam, answering in unison, “Hell yeah!”

**SC SC SC SC SC SC SC**

“This, Sam, is liquid eyeliner,” Monica said, holding up a thin tube at the high-end makeup store. Her eyes were serious, and she held it out for Sam to take and examine for herself. “Liquid eyeliner can smell fear, so when you’re putting it on, confidence is key.”

Sam nodded, turning the long, slender tube over in her hands, “O-Okay.”

“This is the same brand I use, so you know it’s good,” Monica went on. “It has a brush tip, which will make application easier, and it doesn’t skip, so the formula is smooth.” She patted Sam’s arm, “Don’t worry. I can teach you how to put it on so your hands don’t shake as much.”

“Good,” Sam said, relieved. Angela and Vikki were excitedly exploring the store, having decided to let Monica dish out her expertise and check back with her and Sam later.

“Since you don’t really wear makeup on your face and the fact you have such beautiful skin, I think just doing some minimal eyeliner and mascara would give those sweet brown eyes of yours some extra _oomf.”_ Monica began to inspect a display of mascara, scrutinizing each product.

Sam giggled, “Well, that’s what I’m going for--some extra _oomf.”_

“So you never did tell me why we’re doing this--glad as I am it’s happening. I’m curious,” she turned from the display to meet Sam’s eyes.

Sam blushed slightly, “Well, do you remember that guy I told you about? The one who played my game and took me out to dinner to give me his review of it?”

Recognition crossed Monica’s face and a knowing smile spread across her glossy pink lips, “Ahhh, the ‘date that wasn’t a date but actually _totally was_ a date.’ So he asked you out again?”

“Sort of,” Sam said. She went into a condensed version of the situation, explaining the arrangement they’d come to. “So, I just wanted to… I don’t know, get myself ready.”

Monica’s eyebrows lifted high, “Wow… I’ll tell you, girl--I never expected something like that from you. And he’s your _boss?”_ Sam nodded. Monica nudged her with her elbow, “Look at you, miss thing. Come on now, I’ll hook you up.”

From there, Monica began throwing various things in the shopping basket as they went from display to display. Occasionally, a fan of hers would stop and ask her for a selfie, which she obliged. It warmed Sam’s heart to see how she was with her fans--she complemented their makeup or outfit, gave them advice if they asked for it, and was just courteous in general.

By the time they were in the checkout line, Sam had the following products in her basket: two different colors of Monica’s favorite eyeliner (black and brown), a tube of luxury mascara that she said would help define Sam’s already full eyelashes, a rosewater setting spray, a daily skincare kit made with aloe and lavender, a small neutral toned eyeshadow palette (“Just for starters,” Monica had said. “You may want more colors as you experiment with it.”), a small set of high-quality eyeshadow brushes, a tube of bright red lipstick (“Every girl needs at least one show-stopping red in their arsenal of makeup, and this one would look fantastic on you.”), and finally a set of luxury lip balms (“They make your lips _sooo_ soft, plus they taste incredible--wink, wink!”).

Even though she was new to the world of makeup, Sam couldn’t help but feel excited for herself. She really was willing to learn, not to mention glad she had someone like Monica to teach her.

“Hey Monica,” Sam started as they waited in line.

She turned from one of the impulse buy racks in the checkout line, “What?”

Sam smiled gently, “I just wanted to say thank-you for helping me today. I’m lucky to have someone like you teaching me about all this.”

Monica’s eyes softened, “Hey, no problem, girlie. It’s what I do.” She turned back to the rack she’d been examining, “I almost forgot, Sam--we should get you a perfume.” She gestured to the various bottles on the rack, half-rolling her eyes, “They put these here to act like they’re just little add-ons to your bag--but some of these are _full-size_ bottles of perfume. You’re not allergic to it, are you?”

Sam shook her head, “Thankfully, no. I like perfume, I’ve just never found one that seemed like _me,_ you know?”

Monica nodded, “It can be tough to find the right scent. So many brands have put out scents that are either too old-fashioned, too weird, or just straight up smell like a baby prostitute.” She rolled her eyes again, “That Dariana Flambe has a perfume that smells just like that. Ugh.”

Sam laughed and looked at the rack with her, scanning the various bottles. One particular bottle caught her eye, and she smiled, picking it up, “Let’s see what this one smells like.”

Monica murmured appreciatively, “Oo, Jarc Macobs… fancy.” They found a testing strip and spritzed it with the perfume, giving it a moment to settle before they both took a whiff. “Oh, I like that a lot, Sam! What do you think? That might be the perfect one, and you found it on the first try!”

“I love it,” she agreed, picking up one of the black boxes. “I think it’s perfect too.”

“Good,” Monica said with a smile. They moved forward in line a bit.

“Hey, how did you guys make out?” Vikki’s voice sounded from outside the line. Sam turned to see that they didn’t have anything in their hands, but they’d swatched a lot of different colors on their arms. Angela was furiously rubbing a makeup remover wipe on her forearm.

Sam showed her the contents of her basket, Monica gushing about each product as it was shown. “She’s going to be well-stocked,” she said proudly.

Angela, giving up on her task, looked at the basket, “Oof, that’s gonna add up.”

Monica waved a hand, “Oh, honey don’t worry about it--my treat.”

Sam gaped, “Monica, no! I couldn’t ask--”

But Monica kept waving her hand, shaking her head, “Please, I’d be delighted. Besides, I get a hefty discount. I’m a rewards member here.” She winked at Sam and then turned to Vikki and Angela, “You ladies want anything? I’m buying.”

They looked at each other and then back at Monica. “For real?” Angela asked.

“Absolutely! Come on--why don’t you go pick out that eyeshadow you tried out? Sam told me you cosplay, and I imagine you need something that’ll stay on when you’re in costume. If that’s the brand I think it is, then you can’t go wrong with it.” Monica took her arm, swiping her finger over the shadows. They didn’t budge. “That stuff is a miracle in the heat. The makeup wipes in the store here aren’t that great--you can take it off with a coconut oil solution.” Angela still looked unsure. “Go get it and put it in this basket--I mean it, honey. Chop, chop!” Angela nodded with a smile and quickly went to go grab the palette. She turned to Vikki, “Now what about you? Did you find anything that suited your fancy? You have beautiful skin like Sam’s, and you also have some lovely long hair. Did you get a chance to look at the hair section?”

They had to move forward in the line a little, and Vikki followed. She looked over at the section Monica indicated, “I only glanced at it.”

Monica then asked Vikki a few questions about her hair routine, and when Vikki had answered them all, she said, “Well, then I would suggest you go grab one of those blow dry kits--with the shampoo, conditioner, and leave-in oil? That’s what I used before I colored my hair, and it’ll make yours shine like glass.” She pointed to the display nearby.

“You’re sure, Monica?” Vikki asked, tilting her head. Monica nodded, smiling softly. “You’re very generous, thank you.”

Once both Angela and Vikki came back with their items and put them in the basket, Monica turned to Sam, “So, I’m pretty sure everyone here is dying to know what this guy looks like. Do you have a picture of him?”

Vikki clapped her hands together excitedly, “Oh yes, please show us!”

“Um, n-not in my phone, but maybe the company website?” Sam said, adjusting the items in her arms to dig out her phone from her purse. She tapped away in the browser to bring up the website, trying to find a list of the company photos. “Ah, here he is!” She found Charles’ picture that was taken in his office, casually posed against his desk. His eyes were serious, and his arms folded--the jacket to his three-piece suit was resting on the back of his office chair, so the white sleeves of his dress shirt were exposed. He looked handsome as ever, if not a little cold and aloof.

They all gasped when she turned her phone around. “That’s your boss?” Angela exclaimed, taking the phone from her to take a closer look. “He’s hot. And tall! Well, from the looks of it.”

“He is,” Sam said shyly.

“My goodness,” Vikki said as she looked at the picture. “Those eyes…”

“I’ve met him,” Monica told them. “He was at the hospital the day Marshall collapsed--he’s got an accent as well.”

Sam nodded, taking her phone back, “He’s from Wales.”

“Well, I can certainly see why you’re doing this now,” Monica teased as they finally approached the register. She clapped her hands together, “Next stop: clothes!”

**SC SC SC SC SC SC SC**

“Sam, I’m going to have you sit here while your friends and I pick out a few things for you, okay?” Monica said, sitting her down on one of the fancy couches outside the department store’s dressing room. “I don’t want you to be overwhelmed or out of breath from running all over the store--and I assure you, we’re going to pick things you’ll like. We’ve taken your measurements, so everything we’ll pick will hopefully fit well--you know how women’s sizes can be.” She rolled her eyes, but then looked at Sam seriously, “I know you like these big cardigans and oversized shirts and shapeless skirts--they’re a comfort to you, and everyone needs their comforts--but when I’m done with you today, I hope you’ll feel as comfortable in the things your friends and I pick for you as you would when you wear your usual stuff. You’re going to look incredible, and you’re going to make this Charles guy’s head pop right off his neck, alright?”

Sam smiled gratefully, “Okay. Thank you, I trust you all.”

Monica left to go join Vikki and Angela who were already excitedly flitting from rack to rack grabbing items. Sam took the time to herself to make the call to Ruth. She was lucky to get ahold of her when she was out shopping for groceries, away from her brother. When Sam brought up the prospect of seeing a gynecologist, at first Ruth had panicked and asked fearful questions (was she pregnant, in pain, etc), but Sam was able to stop her and assure her everything was fine. She simply needed to start taking birth control, and wanted to keep Jay out of the loop in that regard. Ruth, being the awesome woman she was, not only agreed to keep it a secret but wholly understood why it had to be that way, and Sam was truly grateful to her. Ruth then said she’d ask around with some of her friends and try and schedule an appointment as soon as possible, and that she would text her the date and time if she was successful.

“Thank you so much, Ruth,” Sam finished, hanging up the phone.

“Oh, we’re just in time!” Vikki said as she returned with Angela and Monica. Every single one of them had armfuls of clothes for her to try on.

Sam blinked slowly, “Wow…”

Monica gently sat her pile of clothes on the seat next to Sam, “I’m going to cover up the mirror in the dressing room, okay? Just come out and show us first, and then use the mirror out here.”

Sam nodded and waited for them to set up the room, filling it with the clothes they’d picked out. She saw a few different dresses--one of which was a bright red that matched the lipstick Monica had bought for her--blouses of different materials and cuts, a couple of skirts, and underneath the giant pile were a few packages of pantyhose. Sam picked them up and examined them. One was a simple black pair, another had a vertical stripe pattern, and the last had a subtle fishnet pattern sewn into it. _Those might be a bit too sexy for the office,_ Sam thought. Then there was the fact that all of them were thigh-high and not the full waisted ones she usually wore. She blushed, wondering if Charles would like those.

“Alright,” Monica said, letting out a tired breath from the effort. “Let’s get started.”

**SC SC SC SC SC SC SC**

Sam had on the first outfit--a black silk blouse and a pencil skirt made of a nice stretchy material--and stepped out. “I like this,” she said, looking down at herself. “It feels nice, and it’s a pencil skirt that I can actually walk in."

Angela nodded, “Yeah, and you can even unbutton it a bit and wear a camisole underneath.”

“The sleeves look really cute rolled up, too!” Vikki said cheerfully.

“Yes, yes--this one looks great--we knew that,” Monica said waving her hand. She smirked at Sam, “Put on the red one.”

“Ooo, yes--the _red_ one!” Angela agreed.

Sam scurried to the dressing room again, carefully removing the blouse and skirt. She found the red dress--bright and bold on its hanger--and put it on quickly. When she stepped out, Monica was right there, surprising her. “Don’t look in the mirror just yet, let me make a couple of adjustments before you look at yourself, okay?”

“O-Okay,” Sam said softly. She felt Monica using one of her long nails to help part her hair slightly off-center, and then brush her bangs to the side. Then, she dug around in her purse for a moment, stepping behind Sam once she found a hair elastic. Monica gathered the back of Sam’s hair into a little bun, letting a few strands of the front section of her hair frame her face.

Angela and Vikki watched as Monica made little changes, and Sam saw their expressions change from curiosity to genuine delight. “Oh wow,” Angela said smiling slowly. “Sam, you look beautiful.”

“You do,” Vikki agreed. “I wish we’d done this with you a long time ago.”

Sam blushed a little, smiling.

“Now,” Monica started, holding Sam by her shoulders. “I want you to close your eyes while I lead you over to the mirror--and don’t open them until I tell you, okay?”

Sam did as she was told, “Okay.”

Slowly, Monica led her over to the mirror at the back, and Sam could hear Vikki and Angela following. She felt herself halted by Monica just before she reached the little platform at the mirror, “Before you step up there, I want to say a few things--so listen close: You are not wearing this to please a man. You are not wearing anything for anyone but yourself. You are a smart, talented, beautiful woman, and today is the day you are going to see that. You are wearing this to finally see the woman you always were. When you step up onto that platform, open your eyes.”

Sam carefully felt for the platform with her bare foot, and then slowly stepped onto it. She took a deep breath, exhaled, and opened her eyes.

The dress fit her perfectly. It hugged the curve of her chest and waist, and the hem stopped just above her knees. It had a mock neckline that left her arms and shoulders exposed. It was incredibly flattering on her. Her hairstyle looked effortless but elegant--even with her glasses. And for the first time in her life, Sam didn’t feel like a kid playing dress up in the mirror: she was a woman.

“Monica,” she breathed, her eyes stinging as she looked at herself. “You’re amazing.”

“I know,” she answered, grinning. “There’s a black cardigan we picked out that’ll look great with this, so you can still wear it at the office.”

“Your butt looks awesome in it,” Angela said. “Good ol’ T&A.”

“Office _appropriate_ T&A,” Monica corrected. “But you can easily take the cardigan off and turn it into a date night dress.”

“What’s T&A?” Vikki asked. Angela whispered in her ear for a moment, and then she laughed. “Oh.”

Monica looked up at Sam, “You ready to try on the rest?”

Sam nodded, smiling happily, “Yeah, I am.”

**SC SC SC SC SC SC SC**

It was dark by the time Sam made it back to her apartment. She must have had a dozen bags with her. Their girls’ day didn’t end at the department store, no, because then Monica took her to a lingerie boutique. _That_ had been an experience, but Sam had walked away with two shopping bags of underwear that helped boost her confidence.

After that, Monica offered to make an appointment for Sam to see her esthetician. Not knowing what that was, Sam agreed, and it wasn’t until they’d arrived at the salon that Monica revealed why they were there. Sam nearly passed out, having to take a few puffs of her inhaler. _“W-Waxed?”_ she’d stammered, her face red as the new dress she’d bought. _“You w-want me to g-get waxed? God, it’s the Irish coffee all over again!”_

 _“Only if you want to be,”_ Monica told her, patting her arm. _“No one is going to force you. I’ll just say, even if you don’t decide to do it again, it’s worth doing once--just to see.”_

It took about fifteen minutes of pacing around, but Sam eventually decided to do it. It hurt like hell, but the aloe they put on after it was over felt nice. She didn’t think she’d do it again--however, Monica was right. Sam felt… _sexy._

Sam carefully stepped through her doorway and shut it behind her, seeing Bowser happily waiting for her. “Hey, sweetie pie. How was your day?” she asked, heading to her bedroom. Bowser simply _ahp_ ed in response, following her. She unloaded all the bags from her arms onto her bed and began to put everything away, ripping off tags and opening various boxes. “I got all kinds of things today, buddy,” she told Bowser as she worked. He watched her curiously, his eyes following her when she walked from her bed to her closet, closet to bed.

She finally reached the end of the clothes and began unpacking the makeup bag, setting everything on her dresser. She took out the boxed bottle of perfume last, opening it carefully. She smiled at it, the simple Jarc Macobs label with the name of the perfume stamped on the front of the full-size bottle. She set it on her dresser, her finger tip tracing and edge of the cap, which was shaped into a large white daisy.

Turning back to the bed, she looked at the final bag on her bed. It was small, black and labelless. Her face heated up when she looked at it. “Well… I suppose I’d better… charge it up,” she said to herself.

She sat at the side of her bed, pulling the box out of the bag. Sam had mentioned her struggles with “tending to her own needs” to Vikki and Angela, and they eagerly told her about something that would help her. _“Trust me, you get this thing, Sam, and it’ll change your life,”_ Angela said. _“You just put it on there and let it do its thing.”_

Sam opened the box and looked at the black and gold device. She took it out of the plastic form and looked it over. It fit comfortably in the palm of her hand, and she traced the ‘o’-shaped opening with her finger. The device came with several different fittings for the opening, to accommodate different shapes, and she chose one that looked like it would work for her, fitting it into place on the opening. Then she unsealed the charging port, took the charger out of the box, and plugged it into the wall. She left the device with the charging cord in it on her nightstand, watching the blinking light. When it was steady and not blinking, that meant it was fully-charged.

She chewed her thumb while she watched it, her face flushed, wondering if it really was as good as Angela said. A ding from her phone jolted her out of her thoughts, and Sam quickly picked it up. It was a text from Ruth letting her know she’d been able to get her an appointment for Wednesday morning at the earliest. Sam eagerly responded that that would be fine. She would have to miss a little bit of work in the morning, but she didn’t imagine Charles would mind.

Setting her phone down, she looked at the charging device on her nightstand. Her face heated up slightly, but now she smiled at it. Her resolve renewed, she went to take a quick shower--and when she came out, she was going to dry off, put on one of her new lacy nightgowns, and see just what that little device could do for her.

**SC SC SC SC SC SC SC**

Marshall stretched once he’d dressed in his comfy t-shirt and sweatpants after his shower, sighing contentedly. He’d spent a large part of his weekend trying to find the right game for his next playthrough, but anything he downloaded didn’t grab his interest like _Ruminate._ He doubted anything would, but there _had_ to be something out there that came close. He thought maybe he should ask Sam the next time he saw her--she might have a suggestion. Horror games were still out of the question with his heart being the way it was, and he sighed sadly when he looked down at the wrist monitor, Mortimer.

He went to his kitchen and began rummaging around his fridge for something he could eat, his hands turning jars, bottles, and other containers around to see what looked good. He shrugged and looked in the above freezer, trying to find anything. Then, he spotted the bag at the back.

“Aw, hell yeah!” Marshall cheered. “Dino nuggets! A perfectly balanced meal for any grown man.” 

_Who are you kidding?_ a dark voice in his head said. _‘Grown man’? Not a chance._

He shrugged the thought off, not letting it diminish his desire for tasty chicken nuggets. Just as he was pulling the big bag of food out of the back of the freezer, a loud, sexual moan from next door caught him off-guard and made his head smack into the roof of the tiny cold cubby.

“Ouchie,” he said, one eye squinting from the stinging bump on his head. The door to the freezer closed on its own, and he stood there in his kitchen, confused. “Is Sam… watching porn again?” he asked aloud, going to preheat his oven. He cleared his throat, feeling his face flush deeply. He shrugged to himself, “Don’t think about it, Marshall. Just don’t think about it.” He repeated himself over and over, in denial about whatever he’d just heard. It certainly didn’t sound like it came from a computer this time.

_“AHN! OH~!”_

Yep. Definitely not a computer--that was _Sam._

“I don’t hear anything,” Marshall told himself, putting a huge pile of nuggets onto a cookie sheet. “I hear nothing. I don’t. Hear. A. Thing. Not a thing. Nope.” Another wanton gasp came through his walls, and he raised his voice slightly to try and drown it out, “Doodle-doodle-do… just making nuggets, and there’s nothing going on. Makin’ nuggets. Complete silence.”

_“OH~! O-OH~!”_

Marshall began to whistle as loudly as he could, but remembered just then that he wasn’t a great whistler. More gasps sounded, and he spoke even louder--pretty much shouting, “JUST SOME SUNDAY NIGHT NUGGETS! THAT’S ALL! JUST ME AND MY NUGGETS!” He paused, hearing himself, “Oof, better not say that again…” He heard Sam call out again, and he glared at his oven, angrily whispering, “You’re taking too long to preheat! Please hurry up so I can set a timer and put on my headphones!”

Then the telltale series of noises happened, sexy and loud and breathy, telling him she was nearing the end--and Marhsall’s face flushed so red and hot he bet he could cook his chicken with his own cheeks. His heart monitor began to go off, making him panic. “Dammit, Mortimer! Not now!” he cursed the little device.

A final loud cry came from next door, just as the oven beeped it was preheated, and Marshall shoved the tray of nuggets inside it and sprinted back to his computer to put on his headphones--just in case she started again.

**SC SC SC SC SC SC SC**

Sam awoke the next morning refreshed and excited. Eagerly, she went about her morning routine: eating some cereal, taking Bowser out for a quick walk to go potty, and then finally getting ready for work.

Monica gave her some sage advice about her clothes: _“Don’t start with the red dress. Don’t give away the farm. You pull out all the stops when you want to drive him crazy.”_

With that in mind, she picked a creamy white dress from her new purchases. The material was matte and soft to the touch, thick but stretchy as well. She also picked out a belt to wear around her hips--just a simple black velvet bow that decorated the top of her backside. The shoes she chose were also a new purchase from yesterday: a somewhat high pair of suede pumps with a metal buckle on the thin strap just above the ankle, and a black suede bow at the front of each straps. They were remarkably comfortable and she walked well in them, so it was an easy decision to get them.

She laid everything out and did her makeup (just using the liner and mascara for today), styled her hair the way Monica had yesterday, and then finally put a few spritzes of the daisy perfume on her neck and wrists. Putting an orange blossom lip balm in her purse, Sam gave Bowser a kiss and headed to the coffee shop.

**SC SC SC SC SC SC SC**

Link grumbled to himself as he wiped the counter clean, trying to put the argument he’d had with Dallas out of his mind. Dee could tell immediately that he’d had a rough weekend, and while she asked if he was okay, she respected his wishes when he told her he didn’t want to talk about it just yet. He still didn’t have any idea how to tell Dee what had happened.

Sighing, he put the rag back at the sink and washed his hands. The chime on the door sounded, alerting them to a customer, and he turned, still concentrating on drying his hands when he greeted them, “Good morning! What can we get fo--”

When he looked up to see who it was, it made him choke on his breath.

“Hi, Link!” Sam greeted cheerfully. “Just the usual for me today.”

His face burnt and he nodded, “C-Coming right up.” He quickly turned from her to go make her coffee, trying not to stare at her too much.

“You look great, Sam!” he heard Dee exclaim. “Is that new?”

“Oh, yeah. I did some shopping yesterday. I needed to look more professional at the office,” Sam explained.

“Well, I like the new look--don’t you, Link?” Dee asked, turning to him.

Link coughed, his face still flushed, but he turned and nodded, “Y-Yes! Absolutely!” His answer was a little louder than he intended to make it, but thankfully neither woman commented on it.

It took a few minutes for him to finish the coffee, and by the time he put it in Sam’s hand, his own were shaking a bit. “H-Here you go,” he said, giving her a nod. “Just the way you like it.”

Sam smiled warmly, “Thank you very much. I’ll see you guys later, okay?” She turned and walked out the door, Link’s eyes following her out, glued to that soft white dress and black bow positioned just above the curve of her shapely rear.

Dee sidled up beside him. “Link, honey,” she said, “you fucked up.”

Link nodded, still staring out the door, “Yeah, I think I did.”

**SC SC SC SC SC SC SC**

Charles impatiently read emails on his computer, or at least pretended to. He was anxiously awaiting for Samara to arrive. Granted, he’d gotten here earlier than he needed to, so his having to wait was his own fault.

She hadn’t texted or called him on Sunday--not that he had asked her to, or that they’d planned to see each other yesterday--but he did hope for some kind of update. His stomach was in knots and he had to keep himself from craning his neck to look across the hall to her office. Unable to stop himself, he got on the intercom, “Lucy, will you tell Sa-- _Miss Young_ \--to see me when she gets in?”

“Will do, boss!” Lucy’s chipper answer came.

 _I’ll need to watch that,_ he thought to himself, wondering what people in the office would think if he called her by her first name. _Well, why shouldn’t I? They use my first name._ He sighed.

Charles half-expected Samara to chicken out when he brought up birth control, or even the prospect of her father finding out (as terrifying as that thought was)--but she didn’t flinch at all. There was still some part of him that felt this all was too good to be true, or that she would text him the dreaded phrase _“I’ve been thinking…”_ and then the whole idea of the two of them would just vanish. Given that he hadn’t heard from her yesterday, he’d been fearing that would indeed come to pass, that time to think by herself about all the things he’d brought up with her Saturday night was enough for her to second-guess everything.

 _That_ was why he was so anxious.

“She’ll be right in, Charles~” Lucy alerted him through the intercom, nearly making him jump out of his chair. There was a flirty quality to his receptionist’s voice that made him curious. A knock on his doorway, took his gaze from the intercom button.

“Good morning, Charles,” Samara greeted, smiling.

Charles froze, his eyes wide and his mouth open. The dress was modest with long sleeves and a crew neck, but still hugged every smooth curve of Samara’s body. He found his hands itched to feel the material, run them over the bright, seamless ivory. His eyes found her shoes, high heels covered in some kind of matte material with a thin strap above her ankles. He swallowed, not able to help the image of him kneeling to unfasten the little buckle on the side to take them off, kissing up her knees--up her skirt…

“Charles?” her sweet voice asked, breaking the fantasy. “You wanted to see me?”

_Yes, I do…_

“Yes,” he said, clearing his throat and trying to act like he wasn’t blushing. “I was wondering if we could go over the work from Friday.”

“Of course,” she said, taking a seat in front of his desk and whipping out her planner.

Charles then threw himself into talking business for the next hour or so, desperately trying not to ogle his assistant. He couldn’t help but explore her face when she met his eyes, though. He could see there was something different about her honey brown eyes--some kind of makeup, he guessed. There was a small, sharp point adorning the outer corners, he finally saw, and that must have been what was making her eyes seem so… sultry.

“I talked to Indigineer’s receptionist about making an appointment to present our proposal, but I wasn’t able to get us in until the week after next,” she was saying.

Charles nodded, “That should be fine.”

Samara nodded, circling the date in her planner’s calendar, “Okay.”

“Miss Young, have I told you how much I like your ensemble this morning?” he asked, finally feeling like he could talk about it without looking like a teenage boy.

She looked up from her planner, smiling at him, “No, I don’t believe you did.”

“Well, I like it very much,” he told her with a gentle nod. “You look very nice.”

“Thank you, Charles,” Samara said, her eyes and smile warm as could be. He noticed an ever so slight sheen to her lips, and he found himself wanting to brush his own against them. She touched the soft-looking material of one of her sleeves, “My friends and I went shopping yesterday, and they helped me pick out some new outfits.”

“I look forward to seeing them all,” he said, meaning it.

Then, his saucy little bunty smirked knowingly, “Well, not all of them are strictly office attire.”

Charles matched her expression, “I look forward to seeing those, too.”

Samara’s face blushed cutely, and she lowered her voice, “Behave, Mr. Jones.”

He couldn’t stop his grin. She only ever called him Mr. Jones if she was lightly chiding him or flirting with him.

She got up to leave, and he stopped her, “Miss Young, I couldn’t bear to think of such a stunningly-dressed young woman riding the bus--would you be opposed to me giving you a ride home this evening?”

Samara nodded, “Not at all. I’d be delighted.” When she turned, he saw the black velvet belt she wore turn into a bow, artfully placed just above her perfectly round derriere, like a present for him to unwrap. He felt his face heat up again, and his mouth went dry. Just before she left, she turned back to face him, “Oh, and Charles? Before I forget, I have a doctor’s appointment Wednesday morning--it was the only day I could make it. I’d miss the first hour or so of work that day. Is that alright?”

Charles cleared his throat again, “W-Wednesday, you said? Alright then. Thank you for letting me know, Sa--Miss Young…”

She gave him a little wink and then left, giving him a nice view of the bow again before she stepped out of view. Charles sat back in his office chair, letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, “Mam o dduw…”

**SC SC SC SC SC SC SC**

Charles had to really try not to run to his car, eager for him and Samara to be alone at last. He didn’t want her to trip and fall in the garage due to his impatience. When they finally reached it, he politely opened her door for her and made sure she was safely inside before he shut her in. He all but sprinted back to the driver’s side, snatching his door open, and was breathless when he joined her inside, turning to her.

“Is there… something on your mind, Charles?” Samara asked amusedly.

“There are many, many, _many_ things on my mind, Samara,” he told her, breathing heavily. He shook his head, “None of which I can say out loud.”

She leaned over the center console, “Can you show me instead?”

Charles crushed his mouth to hers, causing her to let out a surprised _mmph!_ But she quickly relaxed and sighed, her fingers running into his hair. He loved it when she did that--it sent a shiver down his spine every time. He was close enough to smell that she was wearing a bewitching perfume--light and floral, just slightly fruity. It made him want to taste her all over.

He murmured against her lips, flicking his tongue against them. He could taste her lip balm--a sweet citrus that made him want more. Her own tongue came to meet his, shyly tasting him. Charles finally let himself feel the fabric of her pretty white dress, finding it was just as soft as he’d imagined it to be. His hand ran up her back and down her waist, then to her hip, his long fingers just barely able to feel the softness of Samara’s backside. He stopped himself from outright groping it--he didn’t want to do that in his car and in the parking garage. He was a gentleman, after all. Instead, his hand ran back up her waist, and he made himself pull away when Samara started that biting-and-sucking-on-his-bottom-lip thing that drove him wild.

He hummed breathlessly, cupping her cheeks, “I’ve wanted to do that all day.”

Samara smiled, her lips swollen from their kissing, “You’re welcome to come over and do it some more.”

He sighed dramatically, “I would, but I have fencing lessons to give tonight.”

He watched her look at the large gym bag in the back seat and then back at him, “Ah, well… Next time then. Say… Wednesday night?”

Charles nodded, “Wednesday.”

**SC SC SC SC SC SC SC**

Sam made it to her floor of her apartment building, smiling to herself. Today couldn’t have gone any better. As she rounded the corner to the outside hallway, she heard someone wolf-whistle.

“Wow, Sam--is that you?” Marshall asked, locking his apartment door. “You look great!”

She grinned, “Thank you, Marshall. Thought I’d put a little more effort into my office appearance--though as soon as I get in, I’m going to put on some comfy clothes.”

He shrugged, “Hey, you’re great no matter what you wear.”

“Well, I appreciate it.” She nodded at him, “You going somewhere?”

“Oh, yeah--gonna go to the store and grab some more frozen dino nuggets,” he said, and then he blushed.

Sam nodded approvingly, too wrapped up in the memory of her after work kiss to notice, “Old school. I like it.”

“Yep!” Marshall said quickly. “Just gonna grab some nuggets--definitely didn’t hear anything last night--bye Sam!”

Sam stood there confused for a moment, but then shrugged and went to unlock her door, “Dino nuggets… I haven’t had those in a long time.”

**SC SC SC SC SC SC SC**

_And that’s chapter 3! Let me know what ya’ll think!_

_Glacier_


	4. Part IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles comes over Wednesday night, and things start to snowball from there.

_Final chapter, y’all! I hope you enjoy it (it’s a bit spicier)!_

**SC SC SC SC SC SC SC**

When Charles got back from the fencing club, he went to his shower as quickly as he could, hoping to talk with Samara before she went to bed. She’d told him it was fine to call her whenever he was finished, but he didn’t want to risk waking her if it was too late. 

He usually finished lessons by eight, although sometimes Eva came by after his last student to try and provoke him into a match--which is exactly what she’d done tonight. She was the type to never let up once she fixated on something--an admirable quality, in truth, but Charles found it highly annoying tonight. He never liked it when she called him “Chuck,” and tonight he found it particularly infuriating. His annoyance seemed to inspire his victory over her, though, and that had felt good in the moment. Then, Eva had asked if he wanted company tonight, to which he’d replied, _“No, thank you, Miss Lawson. I think any time we spend together from here on out should be here.”_ After that, he turned on his heel and walked out.

He hurriedly dried himself off after he was clean, and then stepped into a clean set of pajamas before picking up his phone (sighing angrily--he couldn’t help it whenever he saw the pink color). Sitting on the edge of his bed, Charles typed out a text:

_Are you still awake, Samara? I do apologize for the lateness--there were some hold-ups at the club._

He sent it and waited. It had been hard for him to concentrate when he first got to the club that evening, still thinking about the taste of Samara’s lips and the scent she’d worn. And that bow. _Damn that bow,_ he thought with a heavy sigh, trying to picture it.

His phone went off, jolting him out of his thoughts and he snatched it back up into his hands. Samara responded: _Of course! Hope your lessons went well!_

 _I’m blessed to have gifted students,_ he wrote back. _They’re good listeners, and that makes them keen learners. May I call you?_

He watched the little icon that let him know she was typing, and her response was quick: _Please do._

Pressing the call icon, he pressed the phone receiver to his ear and waited. She picked up on the second ring, “Hey there.”

“Hello, Samara. How was your evening?” Charles asked smoothly.

“It was good,” she answered. “I walked Bowser, ordered dinner, did a bit of gaming, and did some work on _Evermake.”_

“Making good progress, I hope.”

“Little by little,” she affirmed cheerfully. “So you said you got held up at the club? You didn’t earn any more bruises that I’d have to treat, did you?”

Charles chuckled, “As much as I’d love to have you be my nurse, I thankfully didn’t sustain any injuries tonight: I won the bout.”

“Well, that’s good at least.”

“Yes, I was eager to get home--my impatience served me well,” he told her, not able to stop his smile.

He heard her laugh slightly on the other end, and he could tell she was laying in bed. “You caught me just as I was getting into bed,” she confessed. “I had just slipped into one of my new purchases.”

Charles fell back onto his pillows, feeling himself grin stupidly, “Oh really?”

“Mhmm…”

“I’d ask for a picture, but that would be ungentlemanly of me--and as you know, I am nothing if not a gentleman.”

“Oh, yes--that would indeed be ungentlemanly,” she teased. “You’ll just have to wait until Wednesday, I suppose.”

 _You little minx,_ he thought devilishly. “Oh, you vex me, Samara,” he murmured to her, shaking his head. “I’ll be counting the minutes till then.”

He heard the rustle of sheets as she changed positions. “I’ll be doing the same. Till then, all I can do is tend to myself…”

Charles closed his eyes, wishing he could see her face when she’d said that. He could picture her face flushed, grinning shyly and trying to hide behind her pillow or sheets. He murmured, shaking his head again, “Oh now you’re just being cruel--but I’m glad to know you’ve taken me up on my suggestion from Saturday night.”

“Mmhm,” Samara said softly. “I spent the better part of yesterday evening doing just that.”

“Ah, I wish I’d called you,” he said, more mental images of Samara came to mind _(all_ of them ungentlemanly). “I confess, I’d wondered why I didn’t hear from you yesterday--but it appears you were busy.”

“Very,” she told him. “I went all over shopping for clothes, then to the salon… and then to one last specialty store.”

“A _specialty_ store, hm?” he asked curiously.

“Oh yes--but a gentleman such as yourself wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like that.”

“M-Miss Young!” he exclaimed, scandalized, “are you telling me…? W-What did you buy?” Charles _never_ expected Samara to go into a sex shop--he’d never been in one himself (outside of online shopping, that is). His face flushed, and he ran his fingers through his bangs.

“Nothing for _you,”_ she told him. “Just a little something I’ll use once we hang up.”

Charles’ mind was reeling, and he couldn’t stop his questions (or attempts to ask them), “S-So it’s… i-it’s a--?”

“Something my friends told me about. It’s called a _Ladykiller._ Its function is… unique.”

“O-Oh? How s-so?” Charles couldn’t stop stammering. The idea that Samara would go into a sex shop, buy something, and then proceed to _use_ it had absolutely _blindsided_ him (among other things).

“Oh, I couldn’t explain that without compromising your gentleman status, now could I?”

He _almost_ whimpered. Instead, he bit his lip, closing his eyes, “You make it hard to maintain it, Samara. I’d better go before it’s in shambles.”

Samara murmured sadly, “I never meant to make you leave. I hope you’re not annoyed with me, Mr. Jones.”

“Just the opposite, Samara. As far away as the opposite can be. You have me wanting to drive over and be your audience--though I can’t promise I could simply watch for very long,” he said, grinning broadly.

“There might be room for audience participation,” she offered.

“Then I look forward to your next performance, but I should let you go tonight before you turn me into a wolf, bunty,” he told her.

“You’ve always been a wolf, Charles,” Samara laughed. “Goodnight, sleep well.”

“And you as well, Samara. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Charles ended the call and immediately opened his phone’s browser, typing _Ladykiller, sex toy_ into the search engine. When the results came up and he saw what the device looked like, reading the specs, he murmured to himself, impressed, “My, my… that _is_ unique.” He exhaled heavily closing his eyes, “Mae hi'n mynd i fod yn ddiwedd i mi.”

His phone went off again, a text message alert: _Oops, my finger slipped…_ And a picture of only Samara’s legs popped up in their texts. She was still laying in bed, but he could see the bottom hem of the chemise she wore--a sheer purple--and the skimpy black lace panties she had on underneath. Her legs looked so smooth, and Charles couldn’t help but think about dragging those little panties down them with his teeth.

He replied: _Oh, now you’ve done it. I’ll be thinking about that all night…_ Her only response to that was a simple winking emoticon.

Then Charles remembered Wednesday was the day _after_ tomorrow, and he glowered at his ceiling.

“Fuck.”

**SC SC SC SC SC SC SC**

Sam turned over in bed, burying her face in her pillow. _Did I really say all that just now?! Did I really do_ _that_ _?_ She was shaking, but at the same time she couldn’t stop smiling to herself. Charles had sounded so shocked about her _specialty_ purchase, though she couldn’t blame him, really. It surprised her, too. But she found his stammering… adorable. The fact she could reduce him to fumbling over his words the same way she usually did made her giggle.

She rolled over to her nightstand and looked at the device they’d discussed, biting her lip. Her mind went back to the kiss they’d shared in the car earlier that day, and the one he’d given her when they arrived at her apartment building. His hands were so large they could meet when touching either side of her waist, and at one point he nearly felt up her thigh, underneath her skirt…

Sam snatched the _Ladykiller_ off her nightstand, starting it up and mentally planning her outfit for tomorrow.

**SC SC SC SC SC SC SC**

When Wednesday morning finally came, Sam took a deep breath and let it out when she stared at herself in the mirror. If things went well tonight… things would be different between her and Charles. For better or for worse--but she was ready.

Last night she’d wanted him to come over--and he was eager to do so--but right as they pulled into a parking spot at her apartment building, Charles got a frantic call from his mother. She needed his help with something, and while he apologized to Sam profusely, she urged him to do whatever he could for her. _“Besides, I need to take Bowser out for a walk anyway,”_ she told him.

It didn’t stop them from kissing goodbye for several minutes. This time, Charles’ hand _did_ go up her skirt a little, and Sam could tell he was feeling her stockings. When his fingers reached the garter clasp, he moaned into her mouth. _“My God,”_ he breathed, his voice hoarse.

 _“I’ll see you tomorrow night, Charles,”_ she’d said against his mouth before getting out of the car.

Sam took another deep breath, and headed out the door to her appointment.

**SC SC SC SC SC SC SC**

Charles waited for Samara in her office, anxious to find out how things went at the doctor. He sat at the table, going over a few emails on his lap top. He’d woken up nervous this morning, something he hadn’t expected. He couldn’t recall another time recently when he’d been this antsy--but he knew why. This was Samara--his boss’ daughter, his assistant, probably the sweetest woman he’d ever known… She was special, he realized. She was special, and he wanted her. He wanted her _badly._ There were a lot of things riding on tonight, and it could either be the start of something wonderful… or a giant, disastrous mistake. But even if it did end up a mistake, it was one he just _had_ to make.

“Oh, hey Charles,” Samara greeted cheerfully.

Charles looked up from his laptop, giving her a soft smile, “Good morning, Miss Young.” She was wearing a black dress today, similar to the ivory one she’d worn on Monday.

Samara sat across from him, setting her bag down next to her, “Was there something you wanted to discuss?”

He shook his head, “No--well, yes, but not business-related.” He cleared his throat, “Your appointment…? It went well this morning?”

Samara nodded, “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” he said, relieved. “Good. And-And if you need to stop by the pharmacy at some point today, you could of course--”

She shook her head, “That won’t be necessary.” Leaning forward, she whispered to him, “I got the shot. Much easier than taking a pill every day.”

Charles nodded, clearing his throat again, “Of course. I-I know we said tonight, but I meant what I said about wanting to keep the moment somewhat spontaneous. It’s okay if… if things don’t… happen tonight. I don’t want you to feel pressured.” He kept his voice low.

Samara touched his arm, “I know. I don’t.” Her eyes were sweet, warm, sincere, “I want this, Charles. I’m ready. And I want you.”

Charles smiled gently, “Alright then.”

**SC SC SC SC SC SC SC**

Sam fluffed the pillows on her couch, scanning her apartment for anything that needed to be touched up. She had Ms. Whipple take in Bowser for the evening, no doubt they’d spend the evening eating popcorn and watching crime dramas together.

She’d told Charles that she’d like to take the bus home and get a few things ready before he arrived. Reluctantly, he agreed, saying he’d come by a little later in the evening. Sam was baking some of her mother’s special cinnamon rolls. She’d prepared the dough the night before, letting it sit until she got home from work. They would be crisp on the outside yet fluffy and soft on the inside, and mouthwateringly sweet. The cream cheese glaze she’d made for them was flavored with a bit of orange zest and juice. That was Sam’s own tweak to her mother’s original recipe. If she got the timing just right, the rolls would be coming out of the oven just as Charles arrived.

She was still in the dress she’d worn to work this morning, but she’d put on the stockings from yesterday. The reaction they got from Charles excited her, and she liked knowing she could excite _him_ like that.

Sam washed her hands and smoothed the skirt of her dress, wondering if she should light some candles or something--but just then there was a gentle knock at her door. Smiling, she went to open it, and found Charles standing there, dressed casually again with a small bag.

“Good evening, Samara,” he greeted.

“Hey there,” she replied, stepping aside for him. “Come on in.”

Charles entered and looked over her outfit, “You look lovely. I wish I’d stayed in my suit--I wouldn’t look so drab in your presence.”

She gave him a playful admonishing look, “Oh, please. You look great in whatever you wear, Charles. You keep that up, and I’ll have you start doing self-love exercises for _me.”_

He chuckled, setting the bag he’d been carrying on the counter, “Very well.” He took a curious whiff, “Something smells divine--what are you making?”

The timer to the oven went off right as he finished his question, and Sam smiled to herself as she went to retrieve the baking dish. “It’s my mother’s Sweet n’ Sinful Cinnamon Rolls, though I modified the recipe ever so slightly.” She set the steaming pan on the hot pad nearby, her apartment filling with sugary orange sweetness. From the stove, she picked up the pot she’d been heating the glaze in and poured it over the rolls.

Charles looked starved as he stared at them, “My goodness those look delicious, Samara. What did you call them? Sweet and Sinful?”

She nodded, “Yes--and they are indeed.”

“I can think of a couple of other things that are sweet and sinful, too,” he flirted, watching her plate a roll for him. The glaze dribbled over the sides of it, pooling on the small dessert plate.

“I’m sure you can,” Sam said, grinning as she plated one for herself. “Would you like a fo--?” When she looked at him, he was already eating it with his hand. She giggled at him, “Is it good?”

Charles closed his eyes, “Samara… it’s like eating a cloud. Mmph…” He took a huge bite and sighed contentedly.

Sam had never seen Charles so ravenous about food before, and it made her wonder if it was true what her mother had told her many years ago: the way to a man’s heart-- _any_ man’s heart--was through his stomach. Either way, she was overjoyed that he liked it, “Well, there’s plenty here.”

He swallowed, “I’d better stick to the one--I could eat that whole tin.” Charles looked around on the ground, “Where’s your pup?”

Sam waved a hand, grabbing and lightly wetting a couple of napkins at the sink before she took them and her roll to her coffee table, “Oh, I let my landlady look after him this evening. She loves getting to watch TV with him.”

“I see,” Charles said, nodding as he joined her on her couch, still eating his roll.

Sam nodded at the bag on the counter, taking a bite of her dessert with a fork, “So, is that a present for me?”

Charles swallowed, looking from the bag back to her, “In a sense…” His cheeks were pink. Sam lifted a curious eyebrow, beckoning him to tell more. He chuckled, licking his lips, “I’ll tell you when I’m not such a mess.” He picked up one of the moistened napkins and began wiping his fingers.

Sam set down her plate and caught his wrist, bringing his hand to her mouth. She wrapped her lips around his index finger, sucking it clean. Charles’ face was dumbfounded for a moment, but then he quickly cleaned his remaining fingers, lunging for her when he was finished. Sam went to straddle his lap, and he held her around the waist. “Samara,” he breathed, his mouth finding her neck.

Sam gasped softly, leaning to let him have access. Her fingers ran over his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through his thin, brown shirt. Lust filled her and made a tremendous ache within her, somewhere deep, and she lowered her hips over him. Charles’ hands formed over her hips, trailing down her thighs, feeling how the skirt of her dress bunched up to reveal her stockings and garters. He moaned softly, running his fingers up under the hem. Sam loved the feeling of his large hands on her, and she directed one of them to cup her breast.

The wordless permission seemed to excite him, as his other hand came rushing to the other breast. They squeezed in unison, slow and deliberate. Sam let out a little cry of pleasure, her head lolling backward. Charles’ hands were large, yes, but Sam’s breasts were larger still, it seemed. She sighed against his neck, feeling her nipples harden. Her fingers ran through his hair as he started nibbling on her earlobe. “Charles,” she whispered breathlessly. “Charles, please… I want you.”

His mouth found hers again, kissing her hungrily. “I want you, too,” he told her huskily. Suddenly, she felt herself being lifted in his arms, and she wrapped her legs around him as he carried her to her bed.

**_Meanwhile, somewhere in Hawaii, approximately 5:48 pm…_ **

Samuel Young held his wife’s hand, sighing contentedly as they strolled along the beach. Every time he looked at her, it was as if she sparkled like a gem. Nothing could ruin the feeling of being with her, nothing could--

He stopped in his tracks.

A prickle went up his spine…

“Honey?” Samantha Young asked, tilting her head. “What’s wrong?” She petted his forearm as he looked about the beach in distress.

Mr. Young shook his head, but kept his eyes vigilant, looking out into the eastern ocean, back towards the states. “I sense… a disturbance.”

**_Sam’s Apartment, approximately 8:48pm…_ **

Sam trembled in Charles’ arms, but she helped him take off his shirt. He sat her on the edge of her bed, kneeling to help her take off her shoes. His fingers were so nimble and gentle as they undid the little buckles and slipped them off, his hands roaming upward to slide off her stockings one by one. When she stood again, she felt his hand go up her back to the zipper of her dress. He paused, and she caught the question in his eyes. She nodded firmly, and Charles held the zipper, dragging it down as far as it would go.

Sam shimmied out of the garment, pulling it over her head. Charles helped her toss it to the side. His electric blue eyes greedily darted over her figure, taking in her vintage-inspired black and white lingerie. Sam slipped off the garter belt, leaving herself in just the bra and panties. She stepped forward, her face burning but unflinching, and unbuttoned his corduroys, never leaving his gaze. Her fingers found the zipper, and she slowly brought it down. She could swear she felt him tremble when her knuckles brushed the warmth inside.

Before she could push the pants down off him, he reached into the pocket and pulled out several small packets. Sam, realizing what they were, blushed a deeper red, and she pulled his face down to kiss her lips again. Charles set them on her nightstand, gently urging her to her bed. She sat, and brought her hands to the clasp of her bra. When it came undone and she let it fall away from her body, she saw Charles swallow. Hard.

“You’re so beautiful, Samara,” he said softly. She looked up at him shyly, and he turned his head towards the kitchen, “T-The bag I brought…”

“Yes?” Sam asked curiously.

“It-It’s a bottle of lubricant.” He looked back at her.

She blushed heavily now, “Th-That may not be necessary.”

Charles lifted his eyebrows in surprise, “Oh?” He swallowed again.

Sam nodded, “Come here.” Her hands reached out to him, and Charles slipped off his pants, crawling over her. He was only wearing his boxer briefs now, and it was very apparent what kind of effect Sam had on him. They kissed again, wildly and hungrily. Charles’ hands were all over her, and he found her breasts again, making her gasp. He gently teased her nipples and she mewled, squirming under him. His mouth kissed his way down to them, and when his tongue flicked over one of the sensitive buds she arched her back, gasping even louder. He teased her breasts for several minutes, until she couldn’t take it anymore. She was squirming with delight and excitement.

Charles’ fingers hooked themselves under the band of her lace panties, and he looked at her again. Another question in his eyes. Again, Sam nodded. He pulled at the garment slowly, and Sam’s face was burgundy when she saw how the apex of the panties clung to her center. Charles noticed that as well, and a hungry fog of lust filled his eyes… that was, until he pulled them off and saw she’d been waxed nearly bare. “S-Samara,” he breathed, his eyes wide and his face turning all different shades of pink and red.

“Like I said,” she told him, shrugging shyly, “this is a two-way street.”

Charles nodded, “And you meant it.” He bent down to kiss her, “Now let me make good on my side…” He took off his underwear, and Sam caught a peek of his length before he rolled a condom over it--he was big… bigger than she thought he’d be, even--and for a moment she wondered if they really would need that lubricant. But he came back to her kissing up from her navel, between her breasts, and then her neck. “Are you ready?” he whispered to her, his breath hot against her ear.

Sam nodded, putting her hands on his shoulders, “Yes.” She kissed his jawline, her teeth gently nipping at his earlobe, _“Hurry…”_

She could feel the weight of his length on her mound, warm and thick, rhythmically running up and down her folds. She moved against him, pushing up into him. “That’s it,” Charles sighed passionately. “Oh, that’s it, bunty… Just like that…”

He slipped inside her, and Sam gasped sharply, her eyes going wide.

Charles froze in place, “Did I hurt you?”

“No!” Sam said urgently, her hips continued to move. “Not at all, please keep going…” Her hands cupped his face, bringing his mouth to hers.

Charles kissed her back, slipping his tongue in her mouth as he moved inside her. He moaned, and Sam felt herself tighten around his length, pulling him further in. Her legs raised off the bed, locking around his waist to keep his body close. 

“Samara,” he breathed, closing his eyes.

She cradled his head to her breast, her fingers messing up his perfectly gelled hair. “More,” she cried softly. “Oh god… more…”

The bed started to squeak as Charles’ thrusts gradually got faster, the two of them gasping in time with each motion. Sam’s hands shakily explored his back, feeling his working muscles. She was trying not to scratch him, but it felt so good.

Seeming to realize what her struggle was, Charles panted in her ear, “It’s alright, bunty. You can scratch--I like that.”

Just as he hit a particularly sensitive spot inside her, Sam cried out and proceeded to rake her nails down his back, making him utter a satisfied moan into her shoulder. “R-Right there!” Sam gasped, her eyes squeezing shut. “Oh my god, oh my _god,”_ she breathed, trembling.

He found the angle again, and kept at it. Sam cried out. Every thrust sent her cries higher and closer together. The closer she got, the more she seemed to tremble. “Let go, Samara,” he urged her, going harder. “Come on, bunty--let it go… let me feel you…” He buried his face in her shoulder again, apparently close himself.

Sam gasped, her muscles getting tense, and she clung to him desperately. “H-Harder,” she squeaked. “God, Charles--harder!” He obliged her, and the headboard started smacking the wall. Sam was shaking now, and her cries were getting louder. “Ch-Charles, you’re going to make me scream,” she squeaked. “C-Cover my mou-- _OH~!”_

Charles clamped his hand over her mouth just as she shouted her release. Sam’s eyes rolled into the back of her head, feeling herself radiate with warm, fluttering pleasure all over his length. She could feel Charles’ hips stuttering into hers, telling her he was right along with her. He was gasping into the pillow behind her, muffling his cries.

When he rose, Charles slowly took his hand off her mouth, Sam nodding it was okay. He kissed her tenderly, breathing heavily through his nose. “Are you alright?” he asked when he parted from her. “You’re shaking.”

It was true. She looked at her hands and then shrugged, “I-I’m okay.”

“Do you need your inhaler?” He gently brushed her bangs away from her face.

Sam nodded, “I think so.” She reached for it on the nightstand, and Charles helped put it into her hand. She shook it and took a big dose, letting herself breathe. She grinned, “My ears are ringing… is that normal?”

Charles laughed, “I think so. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She bit her lip, her free hand tracing a line on his chest, “Was I…?”

He kissed her deeply, one of his hands cupping her cheek, _“Dduwies,_ you were far better than anything I imagined. Truly.” He pulled out of her and carefully disposed of the condom in the wastebasket beside her bed, then settled next to her so she could breathe more freely.

**_Somewhere in Hawaii, half-past 7pm_ **

Samuel Young strolled into the hotel lobby casually, trying not to look distressed to the other people busily flitting around. His wife had hidden his phone from him (probably with good reason), but he couldn’t shake the feeling he’d gotten earlier, and it had brought him to the front desk.

He approached the clerk and smiled cheerfully, “Good evening--would it by any chance be too much trouble to use the phone?”

The woman running the desk, shook her head, returning the smile, “Not at all, sir. Please, help yourself.” She picked up the desk phone and set it before him. He nodded gratefully and began calling his daughter’s cell phone number. It was late, and she was likely already in bed, but it couldn’t hurt to try it once. When she didn’t pick up, he called Jones’ number, ready to strike with the third degree if the Suave Welsh Bastard answered. Again, no answer. 

But Samuel had one last ace in his sleeve. He knew one employee of his who stayed up late watching reality dating shows: he called Lucy.

She picked up right away, and as calmly as he could, Samuel said, “Good evening, Lucy--I’m terribly sorry to call so late, but if you could, would you run the 5P Protocol app to find Samara’s location for me?” Lucy of course said yes, and it took a moment for her to boot it up, but she confirmed for Samuel that his daughter was safe and sound in her apartment. He was somewhat relieved by that fact, but it still didn’t make the suspicion go away. “That’s good to know, Lucy. Now, did you happen to install the SWB app as instructed on Charles’ new phone? If so, it shouldn’t show up on his list of apps at all… Good. Thank you--yes, I would like you to boot it up, please.” Samuel stood there, part of him ready to erupt with rage if his intuition turned out to be true. Lucy made a soft gasp. “What is it, Lucy?... You tell me, _now.”_ She spoke, and Samuel felt something inside his head snap. “I see… wonder why he’s there so late. That will be all, Lucy, thank you. Goodnight.”

Samuel ended the call with a little more anger than he intended--it wasn’t poor Lucy’s fault, after all--but he squeezed the phone receiver so hard that it crunched in his hand. The desk clerk sheepishly took the phone back in pieces, too afraid to say anything as Samuel stalked away to rejoin his wife.

_He. Is. FIRED._

**_Samara’s Apartment, almost 11pm_ **

“Tell me a riddle,” Samara demanded, turning to Charles in bed.

Charles chuckled, “A riddle? Why?”

She shrugged, “You said you loved them, and I bet you know a bunch of good ones.”

He rolled over on his side towards her, “That I do. Alright then, Samara. I’ll start simple: what word starts with E and ends with E, but only has one letter in it?”

“Hmm,” she murmured thoughtfully, her sweet brown eyes seeming to search her ceiling for the answer. “Oh, it must be an envelope.”

“You’re right,” he confirmed. “But that was an easy one. What about… ‘No sooner spoken than broken.’ What is it?”

“Pfft--silence,” she said, not even having to think about it. “C’mon, stop going easy on me.”

Charles chuckled again, “Alright, alright… How about this one: I have four keys, but no locks. I have space, but no room. You can enter, but can’t go inside. What am I?”

This one seemed to stump her for a bit, she repeated the lines to herself a few times. “Ah!” she said, realizing. “A keyboard. I should have known that one.”

He pulled her close, “Correct.” He kissed her shoulder, “Do you know any riddles yourself?”

She giggled, squirming from how his breath tickled her neck, “A few.”

“Tell me one,” he said, his mouth running along her collarbone.

“A-Alright… what has teeth but can’t bite?”

Charles nibbled at her pulse, “Mm, a comb.” He rose from her, “Another?”

Samara bit her lip, looking thoughtful, “What flies but has no wings?”

He smiled into the other side of her neck, “Time. I like that one. Any more?”

“Only one I can think of when you’re tickling me like that,” she murmured. Her hands came around his shoulders, and quietly she said, “What’s white when it’s dirty?”

Charles grinned, nibbling up her sensitive neck again, “A chalkboard. _Or…”_ He trailed off, moving his lips to her ear, _“You.”_

Samara gasped, shocked, and she playfully swatted him, laughing, “Charles Jones! I thought you were a gentleman!”

He chuckled and moved on top of her, pressing his forehead to hers, “I am, bunty. But you’ve woken the wolf in me.” He kissed her deeply, tasting her warm, shy tongue, “Care to go for another round?”

“God, yes,” she breathed against his lips.

Charles hummed agreeably, his mouth going to her ear, “Would you like to try a new position?”

**SC SC SC SC SC SC SC**

Charles dropped Sam off at the coffee shop the next morning, but not before kissing her goodbye. It was several minutes before they finally broke from each other. His hands had been all over her, and hers all over him, feeling his chest and the heat of his skin. “Mmn,” Charles murmured, slightly breathless, “we’d better stop before we get worked up again.”

Sam nibbled on his bottom lip, making him groan softly, “You should have thought about that before you put your hands all over me, Mr. Jones.” She ran a finger up his jawline to his chin. “See you at the office?”

He nodded, “Certainly. Will you let me drive you home this evening?”

“Of course,” she agreed, giving him one last peck before getting out of his car.

They’d left her apartment fairly early so that Charles could go back to his place and get ready for work, so Sam had a little time to kill when she got her coffee. Smoothing her skirt, she walked inside. Today she was wearing a bright cerulean skirt with her black silk top, the sleeves rolled up and several buttons undone. Her hair was down, but parted slightly farther over than usual, and it made her angled bob a little more chic.

When she walked through the door, she noticed Link and Dee immediately trying to look busy, and Sam blushed. _Oops… I think they saw us._

“Sam!” she heard a familiar voice exclaim. “You’re here so early!”

She turned and saw Angela with Vikki, waving at her from the couches eagerly. Sam waved back, “Yeah, I got up a bit early this morning. Let me get my coffee.” She’d told them Charles was coming over on Wednesday, and that it might be “the night,” but she hadn’t texted them since then. She was sure they’d be dying of curiosity.

“Hey Dee,” Sam greeted cheerfully. “Can I get my usual?”

Dee nodded, “Absolutely.” She turned to Link, who was pretending to clean one of the coffee machines, “You got it, Link?”

Sam saw his ears burn, but he didn’t turn around, “Yep--right away!”

Dee turned back to Sam, smirking knowingly at her, “So… who was that guy in the nice car?”

Sam’s cheeks turned pink, “That’s Charles.”

Her eyes got wide and she gasped, “As in your _boss_ Charles?”

She nodded, biting her lip and looking down, trying to hide the grin creeping itself across her face.

“Well, well, well,” Dee said, shaking her head. “Whatever it is you’re doing--it looks good on you, girl.”

“Thanks, Dee,” Sam said, meaning it.

Link approached the counter as she paid, the travel mug of coffee steaming. “Here you go, Sam,” he said, his face red.

“Thank you!” She looked at him, tilting her head, “You doing okay?”

He coughed and nodded, “I’m great, Sam. Thanks for asking.”

She smiled warmly, giving a kind of air-toast to them with her coffee mug, and then turned to join Angela and Vikki. As she walked away, she heard Dee talking to Link, catching the words, “... _big_ time.” Shrugging, she sat on the couch, next to Vikki.

Angela leaned forward on her elbows, her eyes boring into Sam’s face, “Sooo… you gonna tell us why Charles dropped you off here so early?”

Vikki poked Sam in the side playfully, “Did he spend the night?”

“C’mon Sam--spill!”

Sam’s face pinkened, but she met their eyes and then eagerly nodded.

They both gasped in unison, their faces gleeful and surprised. “Tell us everything!” Angela demanded, clapping her hands together.

Sam smirked into the lip of her coffee cup, “It was amazing.”

“Was he nice to you?” Vikki asked.

“He was a gentleman,” Sam assured her, but her face reddened even more. _Mostly,_ she thought to herself mischievously.

Angela rested her chin on her hand, staring at Sam with a genuine smile, “You gonna tell us more than that?”

Sam crossed her legs, taking a long sip of her coffee, smiling thoughtfully as she stared off at the wall, thinking about her night with Charles. 

“No,” she said finally. “No, I don’t think I will.”

**SC SC SC SC SC SC SC**

_“Hurry…”_

The memory still made Charles shiver with delight. Samara being so eager for him last night, and at the same time so sweet and sincere… he was beyond endeared by her. Other women made sex a performance with him, every gasp and moan artificial and hollow. But Samara experienced the pleasure so freely, gave herself to it, gave herself to _him…_ and he gave himself right back.

He looked at the parcel of leftover cinnamon rolls she’d left for him in the passenger seat, smiling at them as he drove. Sweet and sinful, indeed. That was also how he’d describe Samara herself last night. One thing he hadn’t anticipated was how… resilient she would be. Charles had only brought three condoms for them to use last night, thinking she would get tired eventually, but much to his surprise, that had most assuredly _not_ been the case. He should have brought a whole box with how energetic and enthusiastic she was with him.

He found other ways to satisfy her when they ran out of condoms. He showed her just how nimble and controlled a pianist’s fingers could be--and when he saw how wet and engorged her center had become, he couldn’t help but dip beneath the sheets and taste her. He still could, even now.

And when Samara reached under the sheets for him, her experimenting fingers massaging him with shy curiosity, it drove him wild. The pleasure he shared with her was unlike anything he’d experienced with anyone before, and he treasured it.

Samara had shyly thanked him for last night, but he kissed her fingers and shook his head. _“It was a privilege, bunty,”_ he’d told her. _“Thank_ _you_ _.”_

**SC SC SC SC SC SC SC**

In the days that followed, Charles stole all the moments he could with Samara. Thursday, he went over to her place again. They ordered dinner and then spent almost all night in her bed. The next morning, Charles hopped in the shower with her, “helping” her get clean. When they came into the office together, they hardly noticed the curious looks they were getting from the others, or even notice how Umed grumbled, slyly sliding a twenty dollar bill to Lucy, who happily took it and looked pleased with herself.

Friday night was Samara’s raid, and Charles didn’t want her friends to worry about her again, so he couldn’t join her in her apartment. Instead, he called her late after she’d finished, and they had phone sex. It hadn’t started out that way--he was originally calling just to talk to her before bed, but the conversation just… drifted. The sound of her needy, breathy little noises over the phone made him bite his lip whenever he thought about that night; and when he told her he was close, that he wanted to be inside her, what Samara said next had his mind spinning. _“Do it,”_ her soft, sweet voice had panted to him, on the edge of her release as well, _“I want to feel you do it inside me…”_

Saturday, he met up with her at the dog park, and they spent a large portion of their afternoon playing with Bowser. The pup seemed to really enjoy his company, and Charles found himself glad for it. He gave them a ride back to her apartment, and walked the pair to her door, where he hungrily kissed her goodbye, cursing the fencing lessons he had to give. He’d pressed her into her door, Bowser yapping happily as he watched them kiss, running around their legs. Their legs were wrapped in his leash, and when Ben came out of his apartment next door, it startled them both so badly they nearly stumbled to the floor, laughing. Charles carefully disentangled them from the leash while nodding at Ben, _“Hello there, Ben.”_

_“Charles,”_ he’d said in response, his face curiously crimson. He seemed in a hurry to leave them, having nearly jogged to the stairs at the end of the hall.

Saturday night, Charles called Samara again, and they laughed about something a student of his had done. She told him all about her progress with _Evermake,_ and then about a puzzle game she thought he’d enjoy. They’d fallen asleep talking that night.

Sunday was busy for him, as he had to run errands all day. He missed her, thinking about her smile and enthusiasm fondly. She’d spent the day with her friends, and he wondered if she was thinking about him, too.

When Monday morning came, Charles brought Sam with him to a client meeting. She was calm and polite--not even stumbling over her words, he noticed. He loved seeing how she’d blossomed into a more confident, motivated woman over time. After the meeting concluded and they were riding in his car, he asked her if she’d like to go back to his place. _“What about ‘the company dime’?”_ she’d asked, grinning over at him.

He’d just shrugged, _“Let’s just say the meeting ran long.”_

When they got to his place, he couldn’t keep his hands off her, not even in the elevator. Their clothes came off haphazardly, thrown to the floor in a rush of hasty kisses and groping fingers. Charles usually liked to tease and torment a woman until she was frustrated, but the sweet sincerity of Samara’s begging was too much for him--he dared not deny her a thing. _“Hurry,”_ she’d whispered to him again. _“Hurry…”_ They must have spent over two hours on his couch, completely naked with the afternoon light streaming through his wall of windows--they weren’t patient enough to climb all the stairs to his bedroom--and he urged Samara to be as vocal as she wanted.

 _“You can scream, bunty,”_ he’d panted in her ear while he reached between her legs from behind. The two of them knelt on his couch, naked, with Samara’s back leaning into his chest. Charles stroked her clit rudely, pushing his length up into her, deep and slow. She let her head fall back onto his shoulder, trembling in his sweaty arms. He could feel her holding back, trying not to cry out. _“Let me hear you, bunty,”_ he’d said, rolling her sensitive bud around his fingers. It didn’t take her long. When she came, her delighted screams and satisfied mewling echoed against his apartment walls, spurring him to finish with her. As the warmth of the afterglow began to fade, Samara snatched his head down to kiss her lips, and he’d never tasted a sweeter moment.

That was, until the next morning when she came to work in the red dress. The _red_ dress… The red dress, the stockings, the shoes, the _lipstick…_ It drove him mad all day. And when the time came for him to take her home, he’d driven to a secluded spot in the parking garage of their office building where they had sex in his car. He didn’t wear a condom that time--Samara was too eager, and he was too excited when his fingers traveled up her skirt and found she wasn’t wearing panties. The windows fogged up all around them, and the car filled with an addictive heat. His mouth ruined her red lipstick－it ended up all over his face, all over his shirt collar when she kissed his neck, but he didn't care. He could only say her name that day, over and over, whispering it like a prayer as she bounced on top of him. It felt like an illicit affair, and he _liked_ it--he _loved it._

A horrifying, intrusive thought came into his mind at that point, one that kept haunting him: _Is this how Gwen felt? Is this what she was missing?_

It scared the hell out of him, and he pushed the thought aside with everything he had, looking into Samara’s flushed, smiling face before he kissed her.

 _No,_ he told himself. _I won’t let you taint this, Gwen. I love her._

That was the thought that did him in. That was the last nail in the coffin, he realized, as he stared at the email from Ellesmere.

_“Mr. Jones, we are pleased with your decision to join our team. The links to your flight information are enclosed. We look forward to seeing you soon!”_

Putting his phone in his pocket, he looked over his packed bags, taking one last look through his apartment before he walked out the door.

“I’m sorry, Samara…”

**SC SC SC SC SC SC SC**

Charles waited in the first-class lounge anxiously. He sat by the window, watching other planes pull in and out of their gates. The sun was getting low, and the sky was shades of pink and orange, blurred into the clouds. His phone rang, and when he saw the caller ID, his heart stopped.

He answered it.

_WHY did I answer it?!_

“You weren’t even going to say goodbye?” she asked him outright. “After everything? You were just going to leave?”

Charles closed his eyes, hating the devastation in her voice, “Samara… it’s-it’s not yo--”

“I know it’s not me,” she said. “I know I didn’t do anything. I followed your guidelines--but I thought after everything, you’d at least kiss me goodbye.”

He sighed, running his hand through his bangs, “If I kissed you again, I wouldn’t be strong enough to leave.”

“Strong?!” she cried incredulously. “You think what you’re doing is _strong?”_

“Samara, it’s complicated,” he told her. _Excuses, excuses, Charles…_

“I know it’s complicated, Charles,” she said sadly. “I know it is--I may not know everything about you, but I have a feeling that the reason you’re leaving has something to do with that chain you carry in your pocket. I think it all has to do with that.” Her voice was shaking, and she went on, “It’s a reminder of something, I think. Something your ex said to you.”

Charles’ throat closed up, and he was unable to respond. His eyes stung.

“What did she say to you, Charles?” Samara asked, her voice full of pain. “What did she say to break you down, to make you feel like you weren’t enough, to try and justify what she did? What did she say to make you want to bury the wonderful man you are?”

He still couldn’t speak, and hearing her call him wonderful made his heart break.

“She was wrong, Charles,” Samara went on. “Whatever she said, whatever she tried to hurt you with--she was _wrong.”_ She sniffed, “And even if you don’t want to be with me anymore, I want you to know that you deserve to be loved, Charles. Do you hear me? You deserve to be loved again.” Her voice broke, “I could love you. I can… I _do.”_

Charles’ hands shook, and he covered his eyes with his free hand, feeling them water. He looked out the window next to him, trying to keep his emotions hidden from the few people in the lounge.

“How could I not?” Samara asked him. “You built me up. You showed me how to love myself. You were my first kiss… did you know that? I gave everything to you, Charles, and I don’t regret a second of it... Do you?”

“N-Never,” he told her, finally finding his voice. “I never will, Samara.”

She sniffed again. She was crying. Crying for _him._ “Well, I’m glad,” she told him. “I’m glad to hear that, at least.” He heard her take a deep breath, “And I… I wanted you to know I’m going to take my proposal to Indigineer. I’m going to present it myself next week. I’m at the office r-right now, trying to prepare what I’m going to say.”

“You’ll do great,” he told her softly. “Knock ‘em dead, bunty.”

Hearing his pet name for her must have hurt, because she didn’t respond for a minute. When her soft voice came through again, it hit him like a hot spike through his chest, "...Goodbye, Charles."

“Go--”

The line went dead before he could say another word.

Charles sighed and reached into his pocket for the chain. Any time he felt himself slipping from his control in the past, he would clutch the chain in his pocket, run his wedding band through his fingers, putting himself back in those dark moments with Gwen and her biting words. Oddly enough, the entire time he was with Samara, he never felt the need to touch it.

He looked at the gold band, narrowing his eyes at it before tossing the whole thing in the trash.

**SC SC SC SC SC SC SC**

It was dark by the time Samuel Young made it back to the states. For the remainder of his vacation, he’d tried to keep his fury to himself, but his wife knew him too well. When she asked him what was wrong, he explained everything. Samantha listened, nodding and stroking his hair affectionately as they lay in bed. When he finished, she only asked him one question: _Would it really be so bad if they were together?_

 _Yes!_ he told himself. _It would!_

When his plane touched down at the airport, he pulled out his phone and ran the SWB protocol app, trying to locate Jones. His eyes narrowed at the screen with the location locked on, and when he got off the plane he made a beeline for the cab station. Once he found a car, he told the driver the address and fumed the entire ride.

Why Jones would be in the office at this hour was beyond him, but Mr. Young was ready to have it out with him no matter where the bastard was.

The office building was dark when he got inside, and he marched through the halls to Young Technologies.

The moment he opened the door, however, he heard music playing softly. And it wasn't just any music: he recognized it as a favorite of his and Samantha's. It was well-known to their children as well, because his wife would sing it to them before bed when they were young. It was the song he played for Samantha the night before she left for Florida. They’d danced all night… Samuel stopped dead in his tracks, slowly approaching the office where the music was coming from--his daughter’s office.

The music got a little louder as Samuel got to the doorway and looked inside.

They were dancing. Slow and close, swaying lazily with the soul song playing. They were completely oblivious to him standing there, both their eyes closed. Charles’ hand was around her back, hugging her tightly against him as his cheek lightly rested at the top of her head. The look on his face was so serene, so peacefully happy.

And when he looked at his daughter--his pumpkin, his angel, his princess--he saw a young woman. She was wearing Samantha’s light green dress. Her head was resting against Charles’ chest, one hand on his shoulder and the other gently clasped with one of Charles'.

Samuel saw her feet were bare, and that Charles had taken off his shoes. He saw the giant bouquet of daisies on the table nearby, and finally he just smiled to himself, shaking his head as the last lines of the song were sung.

_If you wanted_

_to leave me_

_and roam…_

_When you got back,_

_I’d just say_

_“Welcome home”--_

_‘Cause, honey, nothin’_

_nothin’,_

_nothin’,_

_can ever change this_

_love I have for you…_

“No,” Samuel said to himself as he walked out of the office into the cool night air. “I guess it wouldn’t be so bad…”

**SC SC SC SC SC SC SC**

_The song at the end of this chapter is “Nothing Can Change This Love” by Sam Cooke, and I highly recommend you guys give it a listen after you read this._

_I’m not really a Charm-shipper (I know, surprising, right?), but I do feel like Sam and Charles would be great for each other. Their relationship, however it really happens, I have a feeling it will be a stepping stone towards something great for the both of them--even if they don’t end up together._

_I seriously thought about ending this fic on a sadder note, but I just don’t think I could do that to y’all._

_I hope y’all enjoyed this--please let me know what you think._

_Be safe and stay healthy,_

_Glacier_


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